
Class i __ 

Book &<J 



ABDALLAH; 






AN 



ORIENTAL POEM 



THREE CANTOS, 



WITH OTHER PIECES. 



BY HORACE GWYNNE. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR J. M. RICHARDSON, 23, CORNHILL, 
OPPOSITE THE ROYAL EXCHANGE. 

1824. 



t{p' 






MARCHANT, PRINTER, ING RAM-COURT, LOWDON. 



TO 

J. S. BUCKINGHAM, Esq. 

AUTHOtt OF 

"TRAVELS IN PALESTINE 

AND 

COUNTRIES EAST OF THE JORDAN," 
THE FOLLOWING POEM 

IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY HIS OBEDIENT SERVANT, 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



Every author who is about to launch forth 
his little bark, for the first time, is solicitous, I 
presume, to anticipate as well as he can the 
judgement of the public, and to make provi- 
sion, beforehand, for those objections which he 
imagines may be urged against both him and 
his book. I am actuated by this feeling. I 
experience the necessity of honestly avowing 
my reasons for writing, and of sajang a word 



vi PREFACE. 

or two in explanation of the design of what I 
have written. 

I believe it is very possible to mistake, for 
the capacity, " a strong inclination" to perform 
our designs — there is no necessity in the present 
day to resort to reasoning for proof of this — 
and, believing the case to be so, it has become 
a matter of duty with me to submit the deci- 
sion of the question, as it regards myself, to 
public opinion. My first production is for 
this purpose laid before my countrymen, and 
it is my fixed purpose to decide, by the recep- 
tion it may meet, whether or not my future 
days are to be dedicated to the " building of 
the lofty rhyme." 

From my earliest youth the desire of being 
a poet has predominated in my breast over 
every other wish, and I have held my imagi- 



PREFACE. vii 

natibn in with a severe curb to prevent its 
bursting forth too prematurely. What may 
be the judgement formed of this, my first poem 
of any length, it is impossible for me to fore- 
see, nor will I attempt to soften criticism by 
pleading immaturity of years. Be what it 
may, it is the production of much thought, 
and of all the reading in my power, and owes 
its existence neither to chance nor necessity, 
but to a natural enthusiasm for verse, nourished 
with intense hope, and gathering force as I 
move onward in life. 

My design, in the poem of Abdallah, is 
to give as good a picture as I may be able of 
Arabian manners about the time of Moham- 
med; to place that Prophet's character in a 
somewhat better light than M. Voltaire has in his 
tragedy; and to describe, as faithfully as pos- 
sible, a few of those rarely beautiful or terrible 
scenes abounding in some of the chosen spots of 



viii PREFACE. 

Asia. Why I have chosen so remote and obscure 
a theatre for my imagination, it were difficult 
for me to give a satisfactory reason — unless a 
powerful predilection for the unshackled and 
exaggerated spirit of the East, to which my 
mind seems to bear some affinity, might be 
deemed such. This predilection, derived 
through the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments," 
and the scarcely less romantic " Histories of the 
Saracens," and " Moors of Spain," continues 
with unabated force to sway my studies and to 
influence my pen ; and if Oriental imagery and 
character become not too nearly connected with 
the ridicule of certain outrageously eastern 
rhapsodies, whose authors seem to have be- 
lieved nothing too absurd for Asia, it is possible 
I may yet woo the free muse of the Desert. 

Of the execution it will, perhaps, be my 
best way to say as little as may be ; one thing, 
however, it may not be imprudent to observe : — 



PREFACE. ix 

while writing Abdallah, I gave myself up 
wholly to my subject, I thought more of 
Arabia and Mohammed than of the Reviews, 
— though, now that it is written, I look 
forward with anxiety to their judgement, 
— and being entirely possessed by my sub- 
ject, I felt that it would be as easy to put a 
bridle in the mouth of the whirlwind as to re- 
strain, within the circle of an European imagi- 
nation, the ungovernable and fiery genius of 
Asia. The reader must therefore expect to 
pass rapidly from the icy pinnacles of Arafat 
to the burning zone with which Nature has 
girt the inviolable land of Ismael ; from the 
stern " it is written !" of the fatalist to the 
enthusiasm of the same being wrestling with 
the decrees of heaven, when apparently op- 
posed to the course of his unthinking passions ; 
from the yielding youth of u Love's rosy bower" 
to the Lord of the Desert, stern, revengeful, 
inexorable. These seeming contradictions I 



x PREFACE. 

found in the character of the country and 
children of Ismael, and my business was 
to describe and not to reconcile them. 



London, 
February^, 1824. 



CONTENTS 



ABDALLAH. 

PAGE 

Canto the First 1 

Canto the Second 33 

Canto the Third 59 

Notes 107 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

from the Tragedy of JEgeus 130 

Dirge, sung by Orpheus and Chorus of Thracian Virgins 

over the Tomb of Linus 141 

Night 145 

To the Grasshopper, from the Greek of Anacreon, 148 

To the Morning-Star 150 

To the Evening-Star, from the Greek of Bion, 152 

The Ivy-Chaplet 153 

Sonnet to Minerva 155 

L Castle 156 

On the Burning of Widows in India 159 



ABDALLAH. 



CANTO THE FIRST. 



Fair Asia's harp, whose sacred chords have given 
Airs as the bulbuVs* sweet, the minstrel's heaven, 
Can still build up with sound. With holy awe 
I touch its ancient frame ; and if I draw 
Faint, wild, and broken music from it now, 
Tis that its chords are broken, — that the flow 
Of never-dying song no more can come 
Forth from its hoary shell. As o'er a tomb 
Chaunts distant Philomel; through ruins grey 
As sighs the night-breeze on its weary way, 
Waking strange echoes ; so upon mine ear 
Swell Asia's songs, — not full, distinct, and clear, 
But weak as is the sound we hear at night 
Borne o'er a waste of waves, whose fairy flight 

* The nightingale. 



2 ABDALLAH. 

To intercept, the fond ambitious sea 
Lifts up its curling waves unceasingly. 
But even her fading images are bright 
Impersonations of unbodied light, 
And float before me like a glorious dream 
Of intellectual beauty, which the beam 
Of the bright sun arrays in richer glow, 
As slowly down th' horizon's verge they go. 

Defeat had marked the morn ; and now the day 
Shed its slant beams along the western way, 
When, some short way from Mecca, where you meet 
A sweet spot, in the desert doubly sweet, 
Graced by th' acacia and lofty palm, 
And the fair plant which yields the Meccan balm, 
Shading the antelope, — along the sand 
Drew near a weary, silent, drooping band. 
And one there was amongst them, in whose eye 
Sate hate and rage enthroned ; upon the sky 
He proudly looked, as every thing below 
Unfit to entertain a thought did show. 
Of regal race he seemed, for on his head 
Nodded the heron-plume, which, garnished 
With sparkling gems, became the noble brow 
It overshadowed : gracefully did flow 



ABDALLAH. 3 

His dark locks in the breeze ; his countenance 

Received the dazzling sunbeams that did dance 

Up from the burning sand, and fierce and dark 

Betrayed severe proportion ; you might mark 

His curling lip, his ebon eye of fire 

Flashing at intervals a smothered ire. 

His thoughts were dark : the crescent had been shorn 

Of the bright rays of glory it had borne 

On earth for many an age ; the Moslem sword 

Had pierced the sign by Tayef 's sons adored ; 

Had struck and triumphed : but could heaven look down 

On that pure faith, peculiarly its own, 

And see it perish I Could the Queen of Night 

See from her censers dashed the sacred light 

Unmoved and careless ? Could the glorious sun 

Breathe life from heaven this lower world upon 

After so foul a deed I Already dim, 

Or far less bright, its beamings seem'd to him 

Since the dire sacrilege ! — yet the impious man 

His hardened race of proud dominion ran 

With matchless daring! — but that day had seen 

His last proud triumph on this earthly scene; 

" For ere to-morrow's dawn," Abdallah said, 

" His hated blood shall reek upon this blade, — 

*' So please the Gods!" 



fi 2 



4 ABDALLAH. 

Beneath th' unwaving shroud 
Of leafy palms arrived, he called aloud, 
And bade his followers stay. In sullen mood 
They gathered round him, grim, and stained with blood. 
With dark, deep, fiery eyes, they seemed abashed 
Even as he spoke ; with no small effort lashed 
They up their courage to sustain the first 
Worst current of his anger as it burst. 
But he was calm ; the idol of his mind 
New raised, had made him to the past resigned. 

" Arabs! — reproach apart, — ye have seen days 
When, like yon sinking gem of heaven, its rays 
Enkindling glorious thoughts, the crescent shed, 
So bright they might resuscitate the dead ! 
For who could gaze upon the glorious thing 
Scattering its beams, as in the early spring 
The lamp of heaven peeps through the mottled cloud 
Of purpling gold, with breezy life endowed, 
And not be fired, as when the rapt cumar* 
Feels the fierce shock of some inspiring star? 
But, oh ! its holy breathings fire no more 
The patriot breast! — far on the gloomy shore 



Cumar, ov priest."— Stanley, Hist, of Philosophy. 



ABD ALLAH. 5 

Of other worlds the burning spirits sleep, — 

And rolls between the black, eternal deep 

Of death, — who could alone revive the light 

Of the fair emblem of the Queen of Night! 

Yet ye were brave ; and I have seen when death 

Unheeded breathed his pestilential breath ; 

When those bold casques, on which the sacred sun 

Seemed proud to see his image when he shone, 

Were dripping red ; when those fair plumes, that now 

Wave like untainted wreaths of Caspian snow, 

Would melt at touch, hung purpling in the ray, 

As bends the lotus darkling 'neath the spray. 

Even on this fatal morn, in those dark eyes 

Me thought I saw the flame of glory rise. 

But when around you rang the clash of war, 

Waved the proud streamer from th' impostor's car, 

Flashed from his flaming sword and armour bright 

Pale death and terror, I beheld your flight ! 

Yes, gracious heaven ! though by Abdallah led, 

Unmindful of our holy gods, you fled. 

While he, the fell usurper, shouted, — " On! 

" Spurn the idolaters to earth, — let none 

" Reach their vile haunts, — be this, be this the day 

" To fix for ever the Koran's sacred sway !" 

And could I fly? — may hell's worst burnings be 

With added fury treasured up for me, 



t) ABDALLAfL 

If this right hand, unless opposed by heaven, 
By whom alone are strength and glory given, 
Plunge not, ere yon bright sun shall thrice impart 
Light to the world, this dagger in his heart! 
Nay, look not thus amazed, — the deed be mine 
To pour destruction on his hated line ! 
Dire, glorious vengeance ! — every one should fall 
Were mine the power, — but, perish one for all ! 
Be not incredulous ; I ask no aid 
Save that of heaven, and this red reeking blade ; 
And let me perish ! so the gods again 
Visit, well pleased, their heaven-built holy fane ; 
Farewell: but stay, — my parents ! — say I fell, 
For sure I am to fall, — but, 'twere not well : 
No, tell them all, and say my soul is fired, 
And heaven will prosper what it has inspired. 
Farewell. Away!" 

Then o'er the dusky plain, 
With hearts relieved, passed on the silent train ; 
While on the ardent west he fixed his sight 
That, flaming with the sinking flood of light, 
Seemed the sun's sleepinghome, and dark eyed Even 
Was drawing close the curtained tent of heaven ; 
And, as his rapid glory sunk, the night 
Hung out her lesser lamps, that, burning bright 



ABDALLAH, 7 

Along the cold dark firmament, gave birth 
To many a wild and beauteous tale on earth. 

"With feverish warmth Abdallah saw them rise 
And shed their pearly brightness o'er the skies; 
For in each holy habitant of heaven 
There rose a witness of his shame ; 'twas given 
Those powers to search the heart, he thought, and there 
To write, or beauteous characters and fair, 
Or black and dreadful ; and to them he prayed 
In his dark enterprise for holy aid ; — 
" Give me but force," he said, " to wipe away 
The damning blot of this detested day ; 
Give me but to restore your holy shrine, 
And let black fate's most hated doom be mine ! 
I ask ye not for life, ye Gods ! not I, 
My heart's firm element can dare to die ; 
Why should the soul, to you devoted still, 
Aye, living but for you, be scared at ill I 
Could I but mark one truant thought to stray 
Wide of your glory, from my breast away 
I'd rend its spring; — aid, then, O aid me now; 
And place bright Victory's laurels on my brow 
Though steepedin death. — Give me to plunge this sword 
Deep in the hated breast of Mecca's lord ! 



8 ABDALLAH. 

Give me to see him writhe in dying pain. 

And asking mercy, but to ask in vain ! 

And I will die content, and mount those skies, 

Or where'er else the wandering spirit flies 

When loosed from earth. And thou, O blessed sun ? 

Parent of daring thoughts, O lead me on ! 

Thou, who dost plunge thy never- varying ray 

To the last verge of yon eternal way, 

Where million lesser fires, that, lost in light 

By day, shine beauteous o'er the face of night, 

Save where thy sister-goddess' silver beam 

Drinks up the sparkling of each limpid gem, — 

Be my conductor !" 

Scarcely had the thought 
Glanced o'er his mind, when swift his dark eye caught 
A falling star that winged its arrowy flight 
Along the firmament, and quenched its light 
O'er Mecca's towers. 

" Enough!" the warrior cried, 
" Heaven heard my prayer, and sent its meteor guide !" 

But plunged in racking dreams he moved not, 
As in the giddy whirl of burning thought, 
Each rising scheme did its forerunner blot. 



ABDALLAH. 9 

Projects rose thick, were scanned, and cast aside, 
This through mere changefulness, and that through pride; 
Till one more wild, more daring than the rest, 
Ate, like a fire, the others from his breast, 
And fixed its influence on a swelling throne, 
That daring deeds had ever called their own. 

There was a tower — he once had served its lord— 
With wealth of Iran, India, Cathay, stored; 
Obtained — no matter how — Abdallah deemed 
It well and fairly won in fight, nor dreamed 
That in the west were those who called it vice 
To mount the desert barb ; perhaps the price 
Its riders often pay, might lurk within 
Their craven thoughts while railing at the sin. 
To this, through rough defile and rocky glen, 
Where oft the desert brood dispute with men 
The doubtful empire, where the tiger's growl 
Oft mingles with the fell hyaena's howl, 
When some lone traveller's corse all mangled lies, 
The reeking, dripping, half-devoured prize, 
Contended for — repaired the gloomy son 
Of brave Al Meleck ; spoke his wish, and won 
The wished-for boon. As pious pilgrim, now 
War's bloody crest no longer shades his brow ; 



JO ABD ALLAH. 

But still the dagger, thirsting for the stroke 
Death follows quickly, lurked beneath the cloak 
That, black and ample, still the emir spoke. 

And now he backward traced his way, and sought 
The scene, to harrow up each desperate thought, 
Where that day fell his youthful friends, and where 
Their bodies now lay blackening in the air, 
Exhaling noxious vapours in the blast, 
To guide the vultures to their rich repast, 
Whose heavy flapping wings and ominous cry 
Awoke the desert echoes ; swiftly by 
Shot the half-famished ones, who now were come 
To revel on the human banquet; some, 
Sated with gore, and reeking from the spoil, 
Were overgorged, unequal to the toil 
Of lengthened flight, they sought some neighbouring 

steep, 
There undisturbed to woo the power of sleep. 

The sleeping waste in midnight's mystic garb 
Lay wide outstretched; he curb'd his fiery barb, 
And bending with a sigh his chastened glance 
To one dark spot, that through the wide expanse 
Was marked too well ; the pearly eye of night 
Had wrapped it in her vest of magic light 



ABDALLAH. 1 | 

That gives the various, many- coloured view 

One soft, enchanting 1 , half-distinguished hue. 

'Twas where the awful Sister of the Sun 

Had that day seen her emblem trampled on — 

Had seen the deep, the sanguinary strife 

Maintained to the last ebbing pulse of life 

By many a gallant son of Araby, 

That now lay floating in the endless sea 

Of crystal light, whose waves do break upon 

The emerald base of God's eternal throne. 

He stood on Arafat's sky-circled brow, 

Marking its giant shadow shrink below, 

Which seemed, as it retired, to strew the plain 

With war's brave monuments — the festering slain ! 

And fancy, madly wayward in the best, 

Despotic in the fiery Arab's breast, 

Informed with life the shade, endowed with power, 

And called the Rival of the Moonlight Hour ; 

Who, when the day withdraws its golden light, 

Spreads o'er the couch of starry spangled night 

His tenuous wings, through which the bright-gem'd sky 

Comes in its cold dark splendour on the eye, 

Like a rapt vision of those things that be, 

Hid 'neath the veil of God's eternity, 

When the deep thoughts are winging fast above 

Sight's utmost bounds, beyond those worlds that move 



12 ABD ALLAH. 

Like wandering points of light, and picturing there 

The seat of the " first beautiful, first fair!" 

But when the moon in mystic majesty 

Comes from her cavern in the sprayey sea, 

And spreads o'er silvery wave and tower-crowned 

height 
Her limpid, far-diverging, stainless light. 
The genius Shadow, shrinking home again, 
Contracts his wings, and in his hoary den 
Powerless reposes, while his rival soars 
In heaven's midway, embrightening as she pours 
Around her marble smiles. 

The dream of fight, 
Wrapt in the terrors of creative night, 
Came wildly faithful o'er Abdallah's soul, 
Like the cold waves that o'er the pearl-banks roll 
In Ormus' Gulph, not as in peaceful flow 
When through their scarce curl'd spires the depths 

below 
Present their rugged front, but as, when driven 
By furious winds, they rear their heads to heaven, 
Though, like the half-fallen Peri's face, they still 
Preserve their brightness, wander where they will. 



ABDALLAH. 13 

Before him, traced in bloody characters, 
Lay the dread picture of domestic wars, 
To which Arabia, self- devouring, fell 
A prey — her enemies but pleased too well, 
That she, whom none could conquer, none could tame, 
Fed with her life her children's martial flame. 

Abdallah's heart grew heavy, as more near 
The ruthless din came broken on his ear 
Of screaming birds, and beasts whose hollow growl 
Swelled like the death-yell of the midnight ghoul ; 
Before them gallant steeds and heaps of dead 
In pomp upon the silent sands were spread: — 
Yes, in the pomp of glory, there they lay 
Mere lifeless, dull, unanimated clay! 
The moon looked down as sweetly on the scene 
As though those things of clay had never been — 
Yes, smiled as sweetly on the wolves that fed 
On the fall'n bodies of the mighty dead, 
As on those lords themselves when warm with life, 
Ere destiny led them to the foolish strife, 
Where Fame, which each fond fool his own believes, 
Decks one man's brows, and all the rest deceives. 
Thoughts that unmanned him quite came rising fast, 
Picturing too vividly the hated past ; 



14 ABDALLAH. 

He cursed his weakness, dashed the tear away 
That dimm'd his eye, and as the shivering spray 
Of Oman's sea, rebounding from the rocks 
That o'er its waters shake their piny locks, 
He plunged down the steep and difficult side 
Of the lone mount; impervious forests hide 
Its craggy base, and spread a mystic gloom 
Around, where many an antiquated tomb 
Its architecture rude, and ivied head 
Forced on the eye; the memory of the dead, 
Faithless erased, its pious founder's care 
Served but to show some mortal slumbered there. 
As down he passed, the scheme of vengeance rose 
In all its might before him. He who knows 
What 'tis to nurse a guilty purpose, till 
It moulds the fashion of the heart at will, 
Need not be told the deepening strife that tears 
The guideless heart where rage his fasces rears. 
For 'spite of those bright colours faith can give 
The darkest actions — blessed prerogative ! 
It is not man's, howe'er immersed in sin, 
To quench the watchful monitor within. 
It still will look through all, and dark or fair, 
Our actions' catalogue is written there 



ABDALLAH. 15 

On its absorbing leaf, (our prayers, our creeds, 
Unweighed,) as virtuous or immoral deeds. 

The porphyry cave, (where erst Mohammed lay 
Listening seraphic airs, and strains that play 
Over celestial harps, on breezes borne, 
Whose sweetness not the musky breath of morn 
Could match, when first it springs with pinions bright 
From the rose-bud where it has slept the night, 
Though earth's best fragrance all around it flings, 
While mounting heaven's fresh field with dewy wings,) 
Now oped its ebon mouth, and from its womb 
Weak on Abdallah's ear there seemed to come 
A hollow moan. 

Upon the dull damp air, 
Arose some dying mortal's latest prayer ; 
Faint did his solitary breathings flow, 
And interrupted oft with sighs of woe. 
" Allah!" he said, and then a long eclipse 
Came o'er his soul, that fluttered on his lips ; 
" I thank thee ! " then the strengthening force of death 
Shot through his frame, enfeebling still his breath. 
" The prophet triumphed!" " Gods !" Abdallah cried, 
" Can dying man the power of heaven deride?" 



16 ABD ALLAH. 

And plunging through the gloom, and groping round, 

War's bleeding victim, by his sighs, he found. 

He raised him in his arms, mixed sigh with sigh, 

And quite forgot he was his enemy ; 

Then bore him to the light, and from a rill, 

One of the thousand clear ones that distil 

Down the steep sides of Arafat, and drain 

His lofty summit to enrich the plain ; 

He raised the limpid life, and on the brow 

That death had nearly marbled, bending low, 

Poured grateful ; then to his parched lips applied 

The cold refreshing element ; the tide 

Of ebbing life flowed back, the half-glazed eye 

Threw up its languid lid, the murmuring sigh, 

Which seem'd the last, repressed, gave way to bliss, 

Aye, even in death: — " Oh, Allah, praise for this!" 

Were his first words, while by the moon's chaste light 

He tried his dim, uncertain, fading sight, 

To know if this last blessed boon were given 

By an inhabitant of earth or heaven. 

Abdallah softly raised his trembling head 

To meet the passing zephyr's breath, that, bred 

High on Tartarian mountains, whispering came 

To fan with its cool wings his cheeks of flame. 

The heart, by icy death almost subdued, 

Still felt one pulse that beat with gratitude, 



ABDALLAH. 17 

And, rising on his arm, he faultering said, 
" May Allah's blessing rest upon thy head, 
Thou generous youth! and, since thy soul is such, 
One favour more will not be deemed too much; 
Take yon fair standard, straight to Mecca speed, 
Give it Mohammed, and heaven will bless the deed! 
'Tis Hamsa speaks." 

Deep, mute astonishment 
Sealed up Abdallah's lips, and as he bent 
Closer to view his face, the spirit's play 
Had ceased, and nothing but the cumbrous clay, 
Cold, nerveless, dead, within his grasp remained. 
Those who have trod the field of war, and stained 
Their hands in blood, and steeled their hearts to woe, 
And stanched compassion, yet may, haply, know 
That there are moments when the pallid corse 
Death has just triumphed o'er will wake remorse 
Even in an innocent breast, innocent at least 
Of that which wakes its feelings ; every breast, 
Calm though it seem, and free from guile and pain, 
Courting its virtuous deeds alone as gain, 
Has many recollections, which were best 
Buried in Lethe's waves. The soothing rest, 
Which lives in Virtue's peaceful path, can ne'er 
Tranquil the warrior's soul; and, though nor fear 

C 



18 ABDALLAH. 

Nor trepidation, when the stream of fight 

Rolls wild before his agitated sight, 

Could chill his courage; yet the godlike form 

Of man subjected to the crawling worm 

For food, for habitation, will awake 

Desperate contention in the soul, and make 

The stoutest shudder, 'cause the picture brings 

Stern, cruel reminiscences of things 

We've thought on oft, but which we would forget, 

Home to the heart. To see destruction set 

Her seal upon the fairest imagery 

Of God this world affords, in sooth, to see 

God's masterpiece annulled, may well give birth 

To strange forebodings. 'Round the spacious earth 

Stretches her dumb immensity, nor gives 

Answer to man's wild question, why he lives ! 

To his interrogations nought returns 

But mystic silence ; 'tis in vain he mourns 

His dark mysterious fate ; Time urges on 

His swift successive moments, — one by one 

They come and go like waves upon the sea, 

Rise, glitter, vanish ! so eternally 

The interminable flood, duration, rolls 

Absorbing all. The temper of our souls, 

Unhinged by these reflections, takes a hue 

We would not have exposed to common view. 



ABDALLAH. 19 

Over the fiery soul of him who breathed 
Enthusiasm's own breath, a vision wreathed 
Its clouds, which bright, ineffable, career 
Imagination's heaven, and picture there 
Such shapes of glory, that the entranced soul, 
Spurning the curb of sense, o'ersteps the goal 
Of cold chaste reason, revels in the gleams 
Of inspiration, whence those glowing dreams, 
That through the wide immensity of heaven 
Hurry the poet's mind, — the fertile leaven 
Of bold fanaticism, ghostly pride, 
And towering thoughts. 

Low by the dead man's side 
Abdallah sate ; before his eyes there came, 
Borne on a cloud of bright ethereal flame, 
A form of heaven, to whom the Grecians gave, 
Back in the olden time, the green sea wave, 
For mother, fair Aphrodita, whose shrine 
Rose bright in every clime, her doubtful line 
Obstructing not her worship. 

Loosely thrown 
Over her shape of snow, to which the stone 
Of Paros, when compared, were dark, there flowed 
Drapery of ether ; in her face there glowed 

c 2 



20 ABDALLAH. 

Beauty and heavenly youth • her full dark eye, 
Her hair, her bosom heaving with the sigh 
Of ecstasy, her lips, her gait, her air, 
Spoke her the queen of all that's bright and fair. 
To this ethereal form the youth had knelt 
From infancy, and in his soul there dwelt 
Ecstatic harmonies of love, that none 
But those who bask beneath the burning sun 
Of Araby can feel. 

Zoharah's eye 
Beamed on his awe-struck visage rapturously, 
Ajid searched his soul, where in combustion lay 
Strange elements, and thoughts, in one of clay 
Seeming divine ; then speaking in a tone 
Mellifluously rich, and flowing on, 
Like the soft murmur of the vernal wind 
Rippling the waters. 

" Nerve thy daring miiid, 
Son of Al Melech, for the hand of fate 
Is strong upon thee : dark and desolate 
Hath he of Mecca sworn to leave my shrine, — 
A dwelling for the solitary stork! 'tis thine, 
Thou child of piety, to work the will 
Of all-foreseeing heaven : my banner still 



ABDALLAH. 21 

Shall, as from infancy, be o'er thy head, 

In constant, holy, watchful fondness spread ! 

Thou seest in yon dark arch my purer home 

Of everlasting brightness ; down the dome 

Of night it shoots its sparkling argent ray, 

Cheering with light the dim and pathless way. 

There shalt thou live, when loosed from clay, and there 

When pain, and grief, and long-remembered care 

Molest not, revel in the perfect bliss 

God has so wisely banished from this 

Most wicked world. The maids who bloom on big 

In the aerial bowers of yon sweet sky, 

From the gross taints of this gross world are free, 

Perfect, and beautiful, — resembling me ! " 

The luxury of love, its glow supprest, 
Sweet, indescribable, pervades his breast; 
Rapt, sleeping or awake, he could not tell, 
But all the vision was remembered well. 
And when at length it faded, there remained 
Something unearthly, every sense retained 
A sweet impression, glowing bright and free, 
Like that ineffable wild ecstasy 
Left in the ravished mind in mystic eve 
By distant music trembling o'er the wave. 



22 ABDALLAH. 

When the soul cannot tell if from within. 
Its magic numbers wakened, does begin 
The deep sweet harmony that floats about. 
Or if it finds its origin without. 
Howe'er it be, the secret power of life 
Mingles with all its tones , and richly rife 
In melody, gives spirit to the sweep 
Of earthly chords that whisper o'er the deep 
Soft sounds at midnight. 

When Abdallah woke, 
Or when the linkings of the vision broke, 
He felt, while ushering in the early day, 
Through his dark locks the freshening breezes play. 
Doubly inspired, he thought the moments slept 
With noiseless, rapid, feathery pace, that crept 
Bearing the shaft of destiny, which hurled 
In darkness, mocks the dreamers of the world. 
But ere he left the rock one pitying look, 
By stealth, — the powers he worshipped would not 

brook 
Compassion for their enemies — he gave 
To him, who, destined to the living grave, 
Th' insatiate vulture, lay unconscious there, 
Waiting that ruthless tyrant of the air. 



ABDALLAH. 23 

The sapphire-circled sun now poured his ray 
On Mecca's minarets and domes, that lay 
Far in the dewy distance, glittering bright 
In the clear sparkling canopy of light 
That spread around, encircling vale and hill, 
And towers, and tents, and camels, and the rill 
Of limpid crystal. 

O'er the arid ground, 
That like a pathless rampart stretches round 
The sacred city, to the spot where rose 
The palm and almond grove, where softly coos 
Th' inviolable dove, the Arab threw 
His fierce foreboding glance. He rightly knew 
The path he chose was narrow as the one 
That rears its dizzy height Death's flood upon, 
To try the feet of those who heavenward climb, 
Spurning the joys of sense, the bliss of time. 

Warmed by enthusiast fire, he calmly dared 
Approach the city, pass the watchful guard 
With ready signal, seek the Prophet's throne 
To drink the cup, by vengeance poured, alone. 
Mohammed's palace near the holy pile 
Was reared; its simple unaffected style 



24 ABDALLAH. 

Of plain unornamented grandeur gave 
Its owner's image. No transparent wave 
Wantoned through marble aqueducts, no lute 
Soothed luxury in its halls, but stern and mute 
The frowning portal oped its massive weight 
Of rugged iron. 

Through the dusky gate 
Th' intrepid Arab forced his questioned way 
With Hamsa's standard ; seeming to be gay, 
He smiled at those he met, and though within 
Death writhed through every vein, he burned to win 
Zoharah's smile. 

" Go, let Mohammed know 
A stranger seeks him." 

Sullenly and slow 
The Prophet's guard obeyed, but turned to view 
Him who commanded him, and scarcely knew 
Why he obeyed that voice. Abdallah's hand 
Oft visited his dagger, and he scanned 
With haughty eye the numerous group that round 
Gathered in silence. Soon a whispering sound 
That passed from lip to lip, seeming to give 
Brightness to every eye, and to revive 



ABDALLAH. 25 

Some sudden recollection, told the Chief 
That he was known. 

" Let happen now what may," 
Thought he, " the moment comes, and short delay 
Will do my errand. Then, ye gaping crowd, 
Ye may surround me ! When his blood has flowed 
My mission is accomplished, and my soul 
Ready for all events ; but no control 
Shall, ere that moment, turn th' avenging steel 
From its fixed purpose — till he writhe and reel 
In death's cold agonies, my arm, which hurled 
Fate in the battle-field, would spurn the world 
From this devoted frame : but then the Gods 
May guard me if they please ; their blest abodes 
Are fairer far than earth. — I'll not repine 
To quit this grovelling life, to bask and shine 
In heavenly radiance ; no, Zoharah, give 
Me to perform thy will, and die or five 
I care not!" 

One among the wondering throng- 
Had read resolves that asked no busy tongue 
To give them utterance, in his threatening eye, 
And varying countenance, and wishful look, 
Which sought the messenger's return. He shook 



26 ABDALLAH. 

His thoughtful head, and nearer drew to him 

Who waked his reasonings, eyed his every limb, 

And saw upon his lip some muttered prayer, 

And in his eye hate struggling with despair. 

Just then the messenger returned to lead 

Abdallah to the Prophet ; in his stead 

He who had stood and watched the Chief, came on 

And bade the plebeian stay; (and he was one 

Who ne'er bade twice;) himself would lead the guest 

Before the Prophet- King; with this behest, 

He turned and led the way, Abdallah saw 

Himself suspected, but th' imperious law 

Imposed by heaven, brooked no cold questionings 

Of prudence or of reason ; on he flings 

His furious glances, all on fire to see 

His own, and heaven, and earth's arch enemy. 

Though once they'd met in fight, Mohammed's face 

Had on his memory left no latent trace, 

But in his wild imaginings he seem'd 

One of those monster-forms with which earth teem'd 

In elder time, when God's own children came 

From heaven to mingle with the mortal frame. 

Vice and deformity, he thought, must dwell 

In this incarnate minister of hell; 

And from his withering eyes must shoot a ray 

Worse than the basilisk's. The bloody fray 



ABDALLAH. 27 

He'd seen him reign in, wrapped in dust and gore, 

Breathing destruction, added to the store 

Of fancy all it wanted to pourtray 

A thing the most abhorred e'er formed of clay. 

In deep abstraction he had followed fast 
His dark conductor's footsteps, and had passed 
Through many a lofty hall, his burning gaze 
Turned gradual on the ground, but now the blaze 
Reflected from a thousand mirrors waked 
His slumbering senses— he had madly staked 
His life upon that moment — with a start, 
That roused the boiling passions in his heart, 
He raised his eyes, and saw — not that fell sprite 
His soul had pictured, but a form as bright 
As Eblis in his pristine robe of light, 
When ministering in heaven with holy grace, 
Ere yet the angel faded from his face. 

Reclined, his head supported on his hand, 
In meditative mood, — the ebbing sand 
Stealing through crystal, that the lapse of time 
Silently told beside the page sublime, — 
The Prophet sate, but when his holy eye 
Descried his guests, he rose, and moving nigh 



28 ABDALLAH. 

To where they stood, while yet amazement sealed 
Abdallah's soul, as if heaven had revealed 
The dread design, he stretched his sacred hand, 
And blessed them in the name of God. 

" Ye stand, 
Thou Omar and this stranger, in the sight 
Of searching heaven, and if I judge aright, 
Thou seekest, Arab, in this humble pile 
The rites of hospitality. The smile 
Of God's own sun alights with equal glow 
On men of every faith, and, stranger, know 
My board is just as bountiful. Thy face 

Would seem to say thou art of princely race ; 

But that is nought ■ Mohammed's board is free 

To every rank ; our hospitality 

Should flow untinctured by one earthly thought. 

I ask thee not what chance or wish has brought 

Thy steps to Mecca, — heaven is good and just ! 

Be welcome to Mohammed • and I trust 

I shall not rue my freedom ; thou shalt break 

The bread of friendship with me, and heaven wreak 

Its vengeance on my head if I betray 

Thy unprotected bosom ! " 

" Child of clay!" 



ABDALLAH. 29 

Abdailah aspirated, " 'tis not given 

To ns to read the secret will of heaven. 

I came with other thoughts, but thou hast wrought 

A change within me, and my soul has caught 

Some secret sense of awe. I must protract 

This dire sojourn. As God directs, to act 

Is my firm purpose, though the deed should make 

A wreck of reason ! " 

And his frame did shake 
With agony as on the Prophet's form 
He turned his silent gaze : his soul was warm 
With a strange gratitude, and in his eye 
Appeared the unutterable, wild reply. 
Mohammed read it. 

" Stranger, thou art one 
Whom the same air has breathed on, the same sun 
Warmed into life, as on our Meccan brows 
In inextinguishable glory glows, 
The minister of God! — bid Leilah bring 
Some water, Omar, from the holy spring ; 
We break our fast with you." 

Young Omar fled 
To do the Prophet's bidding - . 



30 ABDALLAH. 

" Sit," he said, 
" Mohammed's simple house hath ever been 
The stranger's resting place. I have not seen 
A face so like, this many a year, to one 
Who was my friend. His brilliant eyes, too, shone 
With such a fire as makes thy features bright, 
But much I fear me death hath quenched their light. 
He dwelt at Tayef. In the days gone by," — 
And as the Prophet spoke, a heart-drawn sigh 
Heaved in his breast, — " my days of ignorance, 
I brake bread with him ; and should any chance, 
Or rather God's blest providence, ordain 
In mercy that we e'er might meet again, 
Though now of differing faiths, that day should be 
A day of happy jubilee to me. 
Even now my constant fervent prayers ascend, 
If still he live, that on my former friend 
Heaven's mercy, like its rich and silent dew, 
Would shed its fructifying power, renew 
Al Melech's noble heart ! My camel-bell, 
Soft-tinkling through the rich responsive dell, 
That leads you to his castle, would bring out 
His beauteous little ones to sport about 
My weary knees. He had a son that loved 
To fondle in my arms ; and when I moved 



ABDALLAH. 31 

From room to room, the young Abdallah clung 
Close to my vest : he was so fair, so young, 
So beautiful, he seemed a spirit enshrined 
In more than mortal clay, — his lovely mind 
Was ripe beyond his age. He oft has knelt 
With me before his God, as if he felt 
A natural piety ere reason's ray 
Gleamed on his soul to point the destined way. 
And when my laden camels stood before 
His father's blest and hospitable door, 
In the faint dawn, that lovely child with tears 
Would kiss my hand, and vent his artless fears, 
That beasts or robbers might beset the way, 
And kill his dear Mohammed. But as day 
Strengthened its sacred light, his fears would fly, 
And joy and courage light his beauteous eye. 
And oft his little tongue hath lisped the name 
Of holy Mecca, whence Mohammed came ; 
And he has longed to visit it with me, 
In all his loved and sweet simplicity!" 

While thus the Prophet spoke, some deadly dart 
Seemed to have pierced Abdallah's burning heart. 
'Twas then the man, whose head had fondly hung 
Over his couch to hear his infant tongue ; 



32 ABDALLAH. 

Upon whose breast his little head had slept ; 

At whose departure he had sighed and wept ; 

That he would now, by zeal or madness fired, 

Have sacrificed: his furious rage expired 

As the thought rose, and at the Prophet's feet 

He fell in transport, that was long and sweet. 

Tears of repentance flowed ; but not one thought 

Of lurking danger mixed, to cast the blot 

Of fear ; not one of changefulness arose 

To mar his mind's firm texture : but those throes 

Took birth from this, — whether, in serving God 

'Twere just, by stealth, to shed a brother's blood ? 

Whether the Prophet, though deluded, were 

Sincere in mind ? a fervent mental prayer, 

Mingled with thankfulness, that in his zeal 

He had not been a murderer, did steal 

Forth from the Arab's heart: that moment gave 

A portion of his frailties to the grave. 

And as reluctant rage withdrew his dart, 

The warmer virtues kindled in his heart. 



END OF THE FIRST CANTO. 



ABDALLAH 



CANTO THE SECOND. 



Virtue awakes in man's strange breast 
A rapt, a fiery, dangerous guest — 
Enthusiasm, that oft betrays, 
In thousand wild fantastic ways, 
Its bright creatress. In the dream 
Of life how oft its meteor-gleam 
Leads us astray! As when the sun 

Darts down his rays upon the waste, 
The seraub leads the traveller on 

Its dim, unreal waves to taste ; 
Urged by his burning thirst he flies 
To where, clear sparkling to his eyes, 
The thin delusive vapour wreathes 
Its mimic waves : — he droops, he breathes, - 

D 



34 ABDALLAH. 

When the false waters all are fled, — 

The burning pest-blast in their stead. 

The prophet led his youthful guest 

To where the humble simple feast 

Was spread ;— earth's chastest loveliest gifts, 

The almond, pomegranate, and grape, 
Still wet with dew, — the flower that lifts 

Among the buds its blooming shape, 
Breathed 'mid their leaves its matchless smell ; 

And in the midst a jasper vase, 
With water from the holy well, 

Well filled the once unhallowed place 
Of Persian wine, that o'er the sense 
Exerts its fierce omnipotence. 

But near the simple board there stood, 

In pensive dignity and pride, 
Two forms, which, even in that cold mood, 

Would fair have seemed by Helen's side. 
The elder, with a matron smile, 

In which divine and human love 
Were mingled so, it might beguile 

An angel from its seat above, 
Or raise within the youthful breast 
Of innocence, a deadly guest, — 



ABDALLAH. 35 

So blended were its powers, so even 

'Twas balanced between earth and heaven ! — 

Welcomed the youth. The other seemed 

Buried in vestal thought, that now 

Left mild and unperturbed her brow, 

Which looked as cold and pure as snow 

Beneath the raven's wing. There gleamed 

Forth from her dark chaste eye, a fire 

That, 'mid the springs of soft desire, 

Lit up a pure and holy flame, 

A mingling glow of love and fame. 

Omar sat near them : fierce and brave, 

And firm and faithful to his lord ; 
The Koran's boldest, blindest slave, 

With ready arm and reeking sword. 
In his worst days the Prophet found, 
When foes and snares enwrapped him round, 
When fortune's sun burned weak and dim, 
A reckless, fearless friend in him. 
Next to his God the Prophet dwelt 

Enshrined within his burning soul ; 
And when to heaven the warrior knelt, 
Mingling with every hope he felt 

The Prophet's image, — 'twas the goal 

D 2 



36 ABDALLAH. 

His towering wishes burned to gain, 
Through fields of carnage, death, and pain, 
His Prophet's smile. But there had crept, 
While glory's watchful genius slept, 
A fire into his heart, that now 
Increased as it hid its glow. 
His warm creative faith pourtrayed 
Its heaven in Mecca's loveliest maid, 
Mohammed's daughter, as if bliss 
Flowed from no other fount than this. 

Such were the faces, such the sight 
That met Abdallah's eye of night ; 
And it were easier far to trace 
Upon the wave's impassive face, 
When skies are dark, and winds are high, 
The keel that ploughed it years gone by, 
Than with mere feeble words express 
The ravaged waste, the wilderness, 
The demon passions that possessed 
The wildered Arab's burning breast. 

He thought of all his wrongs, his home, 
His God, his country ; he had come 
To immolate their foes, but now 

Their subtle spirits, one by one, 



ABDALLAH. 37 

Were gaining on his heart, and how 
To tear them thence ! 

" It must be done! 
Immortal gods ! and I must fly 
Far from the witchery of that eye, 
Or I am lost!" 

The ardent vow 
That shaped its holy course to heaven, 

Bore on its wings the sacred glow 
Of the bright flame itself had given : 

But other breathings chased it thence, 

To yield his spirit up to sense, 

Or rather intellect, whose play 

Hung round that hallowed form of clay 

That now lay shrined within his breast, 

Like a snake in the ring-dove's nest. 

His bright unceremonious eye 
Ranged round in reckless liberty ; 
Now lit upon the Prophet's face, 
On which old Time's impressive trace 
Had added more of grand and great, 
As it pushed beauty from her seat ; 



38 ABDALLAH. 

And now it met the rapid glance 
Of Omar, whose bold countenance 
Reddened and paled alternately 
As he pursued the stranger's eye ; 
Ayesha's smile next caught his view, 
Whose glancing eyes, as azure blue, 
Roamed like his own ; but swift from her 
He turned, like silent worshipper, 
Who in the dewy dawn espies 
The sun's first rays emblaze the skies, 
And leaves the fading queen of night, 
To revel in the source of light. 
Leilah's bright form, which now he deemed 
Spotless as bright, too airy seemed 
For mortal mould : — Zoharah's smile 
Played on her lip, and in her eye 
There beamed the language of the sky ! 
Such peerless charms might well beguile 
A heart as warm as e'er gave birth 
To love or tenderness on earth. 

Forgotten were his vows, his mind 
Seemed coiled within itself : to find 
Some base whereon to build his dream 

Of bliss, he launched into the deep 
Of future time, where no bright beam 

Of hope did o'er the waters sweep. 



ABDALLAH. 39 

Rayless, and cold, and dread appears 

The vista of his future years ; 

And shapes of bliss flit through the gloom 

Brushing- with brilliant wings the tomb 

In seeming mockery that rose, 

The haven of a sea of woes. 

The Prophet marked his mood, and skilled 
To lead the wandering thought, and build 
On deep despair, in souls that feed 
The serpent Doubt, his chaster creed 
Led him through mazy folds of speech, 

Glittering in Eloquence's vest, 
To that point where could his soul reach 

He might repose in glorious rest. 
Abdallah smiled, but in his eye 
Mohammed read a fierce reply, 
That bade even he himself despair 
To plant a new religion, where 
Pride, honour, conscience, joined in one 
Strong bond of zeal, to guard the throne 
Of faith exalted as his own. 

Days passed, and saw the Ajrab still 
Mohammed's guest. His haughty will — 



40 ABDALLAH.- 

He once had deemed his only law 

Save heaven's — was fettered, and he saw 

Suns rise and set, and day by day 

Some specious cause prolonged his stay. 

Night saw him wander forth, and then 

His ardent zeal returned again, 

While gazing in ecstatic mood 

On heaven's bright wandering fires ; he stood 

Nightly on Arafat's high peak 

Rapt, till he heard Morn's whisperings break 

The holy silence, till the dove 

With sapphire wings came floating by, 
Cooing, all ecstasy and love, 

To meet her sweet mate in the sky. 
Then hastening back, fair Leilah's eyes 
Kindled fresh fires of love. His sighs 
Already told his tale to her, 
And, though an idol-worshipper, 
Darkling in error, she could brook 
With far less pain his ardent look, 
His raptured gaze, than e'er till then 
She bore man's presence. And, oh! when 
His future fate before her mind 
Rose rife in horror, she could find 
No words to shape her prayers to God 
To lead him to his blest abode ; 



ABDALLAH. 4 i 

Love wanned each pious wish, and gave 

Those thoughts that winged beyond the gTave 

A tinge, a colouring of earth, 

That spoke too well their human birth. 

While to the mosque the faithful throng 

To chaunt to God their evening song, 

The Arab sought some secret shade, 

Where through the leaves the breezes played. 

Such suited with his mind's sad tone 

That now was happiest when alone ; 

And, wandering in that silent hour, 

Approached where Leilah's favourite bower 

Stood near a cold transparent stream 

That caught the sun's departing beam. 

Around the bower the blushing rose 

Was all its sweetest perfume flinging ; 

And lingering near, the nightingale 

Her sweetest notes of love was singing. 
The maiden loved that secret spot, 
And, wrapped in fancy's dream, forgot 
That Day was stealing from the sky, 

And Xight his rosy steps pursuing, 
Till now she saw Abdallah nigh, 

The bower and its mistress viewing. 
Love urged him, he approached the bower 
And trembling broke its favourite flower. 



42 ABDALLAH. 

Still in the bud, o'er which the dew 

A. strange and heavenly sweetness threw, 

Like those celestial scents that rise 

From flowers which bloom in Paradise-— 

Or those as sweet that scent the gale 

Which breathes along the Indian vale 

Where Cupid's self is said to dwell 

In the hollow of a fabled shell ; 

But where assuredly he lies 

Lurking in woman's witching eyes, 

From whence those barbed shafts he darts 

Which sink so deep in human hearts. — 

He broke the bad of rosy hue, 

And, moist from passion's breathings, threw, 

While closely mingling met their sighs, 

At Leilah's feet the shining prize ; 

And then he fled, but O how light 

His heart beat in that raptured flight, 

For he had seen in Leilah's eyes 

That she too felt Love's ecstasies, 

And Joy's cup sparkled to the brim, 

Persuaded they were felt for him. 

One night, as on the caverned height 
Of Arafat he stood, a light 
Sparkling and glowing, large and bright, 



ABDALLAH. 43 

Gleamed on the distant plain ; the wind 

Roared through the caverns, heaven resigned 

Its radiance, and the sulphurous clouds 

Spread wide and low their sable shrouds ; 

The thunder growled o'er head, the flash 

Of hghtning, heralding its crash, 

Shot forth its vivid flame, and rent 

The dark womb of the firmament ; 

But still the flame on earth burned on 

Its steady course, and moved and shone, 

As if in mockery of the storm 

That raged through heaven — its changeless form 

Was like the world's — and in the pause 

That followed when their fiery jaws 

The clouds had rent, there seemed to rise 

Wild broken music, faint replies 

Were whispered from the rocks, till o'er 

The plain the bursting thunder's roar 

Echoed — all else was buried then 

In its deep voice. 

Down through the glen, 
Lit by its lambent flame, he flew 
Towards the fire, the storm still blew 
Tempestuously, and every blast 
Howled through the rent rock> as it passed. 



44 ABDALLAH. 

When on the plain, the even view 
Was unobstructed, and the hue 
Of the bright flame still brighter grew. 
Abdallah's heart was brave as e'er 
Beat in man's breast, but a strange fear 
Mixed with his feelings, as he came 
Nearer this wild portentous flame : 
Beneath its brilliant rays there moved 
A sable groupe ; the wish approved 
By reason to inspect the deed 
That thus in darkness veiled its head 
Urged him along. 

The yielding sand 
Received his silent footsteps, and 
Even had it not, the rushing wind, 
Shaking the desert palms behind, 
They now were leaving, would have drowned 
All traces of a milder sound. 
With beating heart and indrawn breath, 
Fearing to wake the air, lest death 
From some unearthly hand might fly 
Upon its murmur; drawing nigh, 
Upon a palankeen where flowers 
That once had graced the loveliest bowers 



ABDALLAH. 45 

Lay strewed in robe of white, 
With countenance turned on the light, 
A female corpse he saw ; on high, 
Flaming and hissing through the sky, 
On a dark massive pillar reared, 
The orb of living fire appeared. 
Surrounded by such awful gloom, 
Like the lone lamp that lights the tomb 
Of mausoleum'd kings, that throws 
Its everlasting light, it rose; 
Or like the infant sun, which cast 
At random through the infinite waste 
Of night, created in his flight 
Heaven's fairest forms of laughing light. 

The silent train passed swiftly on, 
Mounting the ridgy heights of stone, 
That form Arabia's mural crown, 
From which proud Liberty looks down 
On groves, and streams, and plains, and towers, 
Ghttering with gold, and gemmed with flowers, 
And smiles to think the sacred spot 
Has never been a tyrant's lot. 
As up the steepy hills he climbed, 
Abdallah felt his soul sublimed : 



46 ABDALLAH. 

The storm that raged did seem to give 

Part of its own prerogative 

To those who felt it; fierce and strong 

The rocks' rude pinnacle it swept ; 
And the first drops it strewed along 

Seemed burning tears by demons wept. 
At length the torrents poured ; the still 
Moss-bedded, crystal mountain-rill 
Swelled to a torrent, roared and dashed 
To meet the lightning as it flashed. 
Still did the hissing fire erect 

Its long and trembling conic crest ; 
Through rival elements, unchecked, 

Scattering its seeds that never rest. 
And still the Ghebers, for 'twas they 
Who trod this pathless mountain- way, 
Bearing the symbol, pure and bright, 
Of him who called the world from night, 
Moved on, and felt nor dread nor fear 
While God's vicegerent blazed so near. 

At length they reached a long dark dell 
Where heaven's reverberated swell 
Increased its horror, sheeted flame, 
Baring the clouds' dark bosoms, came 



ABDALLAH. 47 

Shooting along the earth, and day, 
Following its instantaneous way, 
Displayed the flowers and almond-trees 
Shrinking beneath the sulphurous breeze. 
Each side the overhanging rocks 
Shook o'er the vale their blasted locks, 
That, dripping from the whelming showers, 
Shed fragrance through its lovely bowers, 
And, meeting, arched the narrow path, 
To shield it from the tempest's wrath. 
Midway between a brawling stream 
Rolled on in darkness, for the beam 
Of the warm sun could never fall, 
Save through one narrow interval, 
On its fair waters ; dashing now 
With loud disturbed, impetuous flow : 
Along its banks the Ghebers passed, 
Close sheltered from the howling blast, 
Till deep beneath the lofty mount 
They reached the gloomy caverned fount, 
Where, gushing from its granite bed, 
It first disclosed its limpid head. 
Lofty and dark, the pillared cave 
Stretched out its vast extent, and gave 
The features of one mighty grave. 



48 ABDALLAH. 

Joining the grim mysterious throng, 
Al Meleck's son was borne along 
With freezing blood ; for this dark pile 
Had withered even a demon's smile. 
Each lofty column's base displayed 
A rattling skeleton, — arrayed 
In horrid files ; they faced the ray 
That gleamed upon these wrecks of clay 
Far from the dun interior, where 
Scarce moved the vapour-loaded air. 

The Ghebers now drew near, and all 
Fell prone before the flaming ball. 
Abdallah glided from the crowd, 
And, while their deep orisons flowed, 
Approached th' internal fire. There came 
A pure, intense amazing flame 
Up through the porous earth, and threw 
A strange, bright supernatural hue 
On every object. 

Rapt, entranced, 
Or dead, he saw, as round he glanced, 
A human form, his robe of white 
Shone brilliant in the awful light. 



ABDALLAH. 49 

Reclined he lay, and on his head 
The tufted heron-plume was spread, 
Sparkling with jewels. Near him lay 
A glittering sword. The earthly ray 
That lit upon his face was hid 
By the full plume ; but if his lid 
Had slept in death, it had not been 
More moveless. O'er the spacious scene 
The Arab's wondering eyes were turned, 
From where th' aspiring flamen burned, 
To the cave's dark extremities, 
Where now he saw the Ghebers rise ; 
Who, taking from its seat the dead, 
Placed crowns of flowers upon its head, 
And bound it to a pillar ; then 
They banished silence, and again 
Knelt down, and prayed aloud to God, 
That he would bless them ; — even the rod 
He had chastised them with should be 
Taken as a blessing ; — fervently, 
With stricken hearts, they called on heaven 
To be, in its good time, forgiven. 
Then they drew near the fiery fount 

And gave one universal shout, 
That almost shook the pillared mount, 

Which mimic echo bore about, 

E 



50 ABDALLAH, 

Reverberating long and loud, 

As if those figures of the tomb 
Had from their columns joined the crowd 

To burst with noise the lofty dome. 
Abdallah started, — and the glance 
Of hundreds caught his countenance ! 
Their first wild feeling was as when 
The fierce simoom, o'er flocks and men 
Scattering destruction, sweeps the plain ! 
A dread intensity of pain ! 
A stranger, then, had seen the flame 
They deemed so holy, that its name 
Might not be to unholy ear 
Conveyed by Mithra's worshipper. 
'Twas death ! — their glittering sabres flew 
Forth from their scabbards, to imbrue 
Their points in sacrilegious blood ; 
They rushed towards him, — but there stood 
The heron-plumed Chief; his eye 
Flashed like heaven's fire, and, raising high 
His thundering voice, he bade them stand, 
Clenching his sabre in his hand. 
" Ghebers! are ye then the murderous brood 
Your foes proclaim ye ? Man's frail blood, 
like water, on the thirsty plain, 
If spilt, can ne'er be seized again. 



ABDALLAH. 51 

Ponder, be just, ere you let fall 

The blow, which passed, there's no recall." — 

" Stranger, step forth, thy purpose tell, 

If just, we harm thee not, but hell, 

With all its torments, light on thee 

If thy design be perfidy ! " 

The Arab, with Herculean arm 
His well-tried dagger grasping firm, 
Told them his tale, and all the pride 
And consciousness of truth defied 
Gainsaying in his eye. There ran, 
While yet he spake, from man to man, 
A fierce inexplicable glow 
That lit up every sullen brow 
With joy : as when the golden sun 
Lets down its floods of light upon 
The laughing earth, each sunny spot 
Deems his first smile its joyous lot. 
So swift the rapid ray has passed, 
None know who meets his glory last. 
Thus ran the lightning flame through those 
Who drank Abdallah's words : the elose 
Of his brief story heard the sound 
Of wild applause re-echoed round ; 

E 2 



52 ABDALLAH. 

Till towering high above the rest 

The chieftain reared his jewelled crest r 

And waved his cimetar. 

" Thou earth,'* 
He said, " and ye pure fires, whose birth 
None save the holy Godhead saw — - 
Hear my firm vow, with holy awe 
I thus invoke you; — 'tis the hour 
When other mortals feel the power 
Of genial sleep, but, oh ! we spurn 
Life's soft unhallowed joys, and turn 
Night to its holiest purpose ; now 
Hurl me to death's dark caves, below 
The caverned world, if morning's eye 
Meet not our standard floating high 
O'er these free rocks ! Al Meleck's son 
Is pure and spotless still, and one 
Who deems it glorious fate to bleed 
When his dear country claims the deed." 

" He does! he does!" Abdallah cried, 
" Though it be by a stranger's side! 
Abdallah's sword, ye well may count, 
While the warm tide from life's full fount 



ABDALLAH. 53 

Flows on, among those thirsting blades 
That burn to free her holy shades, 
And groves and mountains from the ban 
Of thraldom to our fellow man !" 

" Abdallah," said the Chief, " thy sire 
Has bent before the holy fire — 
Emblem of God! — and wilt not thou 
Follow his spirit's track? Even now 
The hallowed flame burns pure and bright 
In Tayef's walls, and by its light 
Zerdusht's celestial laws are read, 
Which peace and truth inspire, and spread 
Wide as the universal flame, 
The holiest love for freedom's name." 

" My father, Chief?" 

" Even so, my son; 
But still the task is but begun, 
Till prone before this sacred glow 
His patriot son shall bend as low — 
We haste to meet him — and 'twere well 
The opening of my tale should tell 
Thy renovation— shall it be?" 



54 ABDALLAH. 

" Ye haste to meet him? Where is he? 
Where is my father ? — Let me fly 
To read my destiny in his eye ! 
I was defeated ! — fled !— but still 
He may forgive me." 

" Oh, he will, 
Thou brave young spirit : on this height 
That ne'er has shrunk beneath the blight 
Of tyranny, by morning's glance 
Thou shalt behold his countenance. 
The moment ere you came, his feet 
Had left the cavern. — Far more sweet 
He deems the task to tread these rocks 
When raves the storm through his grey locks, 
To rouse to combat all their train 
For vengeance on the desert plain, 
Than to repose on couch of gold, 
The hated price of freedom sold." 

" My father here? Your faith is strange, 
Unknown and dark to me. To change 
Is not my manner — but the war 
Ye speak of, by the sacred star 
That smiles on Tayef, shall behold 
Me in its foremost ranks. The old, 



ABDALLAH, 55 

The full of days, should now no more 

Drag their weak limbs through fields of gore. — 

Tis true Mohammed conquered, yet 

Our sun of glory is not set — 

My sabre still can flash where'er 

There's ought to win or ought to fear, 

And my loved sire shall ne'er expose 

His hoary head to warring foes, 

Till, dashed to earth in some rude strife, 

Some foeman's sword shall drink my life." 

No more was said; the Gheber band, 
Their rites unfinished left, did stand 
In silence till the dawn's first ray 
Peeped through the cave, and then their way 
Up the steep rocks, where many a brook 
Brawled through its pebbled bed, they took. 
Abdallah by the chieftain's side 
Went on conversing. Far and wide 
The breezes on their morning wings 
Bore health and fragrance, for the springs 
Of every odour had been crushed 
By the nighf s storm — each stream that gushed 
Forth from the rock, bore on its breast 
Some silken bud that once the nest 



56 ABDALLAH, 

Of infant gales had been. The sky 

Stretched out its wild variety 

Of clouds and azure. Streaks of gold 

Shot up the flaming east, the cold 

Translucent silver of the clouds, 

Morn's airy pinnace' outstretched shrouds, 

Tinging with purple. From the trees 

That now were waving in the breeze, 

Brilliant with watery gems, was heard 

The feathery people. Then appeared, 

Sweeping the mountain's farthest verge, 

A martial groupe that seemed t' emerge, 

So swift they darted o'er the height, 

From the horizon's fields of light. 

'Twas brave Al Meleck's band! — They flew 

Down the bright slopes, where glittering dew 

Hung like a pearl on every blade, 

With which the morning zephyrs played, 

As with light wing they frolicked on 

To hail the bright creative sun. 

Abdallah's piercing eye soon found 

His father's form, and with a bound 

Light as the antelope's, he met 

His loved embrace — his cheeks were wet 

With warm unwonted tears, his breast 

Swelled with emotion as he pressed 



ABD ALLAH. 57 



His father to his heart ; — 'tis then, 
When the warm heart o'erflows, that men 
Might fearless lay their bosoms bare 
For God to see his image there ! 



.- 



The Arabs spake not — all the chords 
Of being trembled deep, but words 
Came not, the eye's expressive glance 
Grave the heart's language utterance. 
There seemed no need of speech, the soul 
Intuitively caught the whole. 
And when words came, their broken train 
Burst from the free spontaneous brain 
In rapid flow. Abdallah told 
His simple tale, in honour's mould 
Embodied ; words of grief and shame 
Crept o'er his tongue like links of flame, 
As with arms crossed and downcast eye. 
He told the Prophet's victory — 
His own defeat — his desperate vow — 
His altered feelings — and the flow 
Of bounteous hospitality, 
That, like the world-surroundinof sea, 
Bore up all barks alike, which gave 
Mohammed's spirit with the brave 



58 ABDALLAH. 

A passport to their hearts, — the fair, 
The lovely flower that flourished there 
Beneath his eye, — the link that tied 
Their youthful hearts, and side by side 
Her image placed, howe'er might press 
The world between, and happiness. 

The father listened, while his child 
Poured forth in accents rapt and wild 
His mingled tale of war and love, 
And grief, and impulse from above ; 
And thus, as through the balmy groves 

That waved their green heads in the sun, 
And echoed to the turtles' loves, 

He answered as they journeyed on. 



END OF CANTO THE SECOND. 



ABDALLAH 



CANTO THE THIRD. 



" Yield not to cankering grief, nor deem 

The tree that bends before the blast 
Unrooted, though it so may seem, 

'Twill flourish when the storm has past. 
And man must bow when destiny 
Bids him be low; we cannot be 
The things we would : 'tis wise to ply 
Right on before the gale, nor sigh 
That there are shores, on either side 
The rapid onward foaming tide, 
We fain would visit. 'Tis the track 

Marked out by fate we move in still, 
And though our eyes look lingering back, 

Nature resists our wayward will. 



60 ABDALLAH. 

But who would murmur ? for the chain 
Of being is not linked in vain ; 
For though the Architect of things 
Small particles of glory flings 
Into man's soul; though, throned in light, 
He join to moments fair and bright 
Proportionate sorrow, lest the flow 
Of bliss unmixed should here below 
Fasten the soul ; yet he has given 
One source of joy, — the hope of heaven ! 
And this one hope, diversified 
Ten thousand ways, doth still abide 
Through every ill, through every fall 
Of life, within the breast of all. 
And 'tis but this that through the breast 
Can comfort shed, for 'tis confest 
That things of earth, though ne'er so high 
They may be prized by worldling's eye, 
Are not for aye, nor can they give 
Content, the blest prerogative 
Of virtue to bestow. Oh, then, 
Enthrone thy fortitude again ; 
To-morrow's sun may see our foe 
Bend beneath fortune's wheel as low 
To-day's has us. — No certain date 
Can man assign to adverse fate 



ABDALLAH. 61 

Or good ; but as along we stray 
The path of life, whate'er our way 
Presents of pleasure, 'twere not wise 
To spurn it ; but if ill arise, 
Unmurmuring we should bear its smart, — 
Impatience points misfortune's dart." 

" I grieve no more !" the youth replied, 
" Henceforth let vengeance be my guide ! 
But such as virtue claims. To me 
It seems as natural to be free 
As 'tis to breathe the liquid sky, 
That urges cool invisible by 
Pregnant with life ! Yet would I not 
Gain liberty by stealth and blot 
Its sun-bright standard with a crime 
Would crimson it to after time ! 
But, sire, yon Chief who upwards springs, 
As if borne forward by the wings 
Of the wild camel-bird,* expressed 
Something that rankles in my breast, 
And will have utterance, though my tongue 
Burn as it frames the tale of wrong. 
He said, — I would not have them hear 
Our converse, — but they are not near, 

* The ostrich. 



62 ABDALLAH. 

And I will tell it, — that before 
Their element, and to adore 
Its essence, you had bowed, — but I 
Could not believe so foul a lie, 
Though I was silenced, for the creed 
Our sires believed in does not need 
Addition, and my heart would burst 
Rather than wander from the first 
Best worship it has known, whose words 
I lisped in childhood, while the chords 
Of this impetuous heart did move, 
Big- with the thoughts it sent above. 
But wherefore are you here, and why 
Usurps such fire your aged eye ? 
My mother was not heard, or now 
You had not felt these breezes blow." 

" The morn that saw thy flight, my son, 
I mounted, as I oft had done, 
My castle's loftiest tower, to see 
If the long plain held aught of thee, 
Or thine — thou know'st it was the day 
Thou named'st, when thou went'st away, 
As that in which thy bounding steed 
Should prance beneath the light jereed, 



ABDALLAH. 63 

'Stead of the mighty spear, if fate 
Opposed not. 

It was growing late, 
And I had mounted oft, and seen 
The sportive antelopes between 
The sand-hills browsing, or in play 
Chasing each other. All the day 
I passed in patience, but the hum 
Of beetles told me night was come 
Ere I had marked it, for I would 
Have had it longer, and I stood 
Watching the stretching shadows, till 
Night closed upon the farthest hill 
That bounded the horizon, yet 
I stayed, for though the sun had set, 
The silent, silver-tinging moon 
Rose with a majesty, that soon' 
Showered round a second day, imparting 
Life to a thousand shapes, that, darting 
Along the desert's margin, seemed 
Thy train, and oft their sabres gleamed, 
Or seemed to gleam, beneath the ray 
That slumbered on the desert way ! 
The breezes as they winged along 
Bore in their flight the bulbul's song, 



64 ABDALLAH. 

And stopped as they came near, to give 
The notes so sweet, so fugitive, 
They'd pilfered in their way, to us 
Who wished them ever loaded thus ! 
But music, though it soothe the soul, 
Yet cannot banish thought — there stole 
Forth many an anxious look and sigh, 
That shook the breast and dimmed the eye, 
And word, — for now thy mother stood 
Beside me, and my thoughtful mood 
Increased by tender questioning, 
And circumstance recalled, that bring 
Bitter reflections. 

Far below, 
Loud, fierce, reverberating, slow 
Rose the hysena's howl; my heart 
Throbbed through my bosom, and the start 
Of anguish tingling through my frame, 
Raised in thy mother's breast the same. 
We feared for thee ; the roar renewed 
Rent the lone ear of solitude, 
And in their distant coverts roused 
The glen's fell citizens, for, housed 
In caverns deep by day, they rise 
And roam beneath the midnight skies. 



ABDALLAH. G5 

We listened, and the clattering sound 

Of horses on the echoing ground 

Was heard — 'twas thine we did not doubt ; 

The gates were raised, we all rushed out 

To meet thee — but I need not tell 

Our disappointment — what befell 

I heard and mourned — and I could guess 

The reason of thy waywardness 

In not returning ; so we bore 

Our sorrow as we could, nor more 

Expected thy return. Despair, 

We greatly feared, had driven thee where 

We never more thy griefs might share." 

Al Meleck's heart, though sapped and shook 
By years, his frame but ill could brook 
Mohammed's triumph; yet 'twas not 
His ravished wealth, his honour's blot, 
Which on that evening dimmed his eye, 
And forced the long-drawn bitter sigh 
That shook his breast — " thy loss, my son, 
Came like the simoom 'lighting on 
Some healthful plant, it withering passed, 
Breathed on our hopes, and quenched the last — 
No, not the last! — for vengeance still 
Was mine, and every burning thrill 



66 ABDALLAH. 

Which, in the holiday of life, 

Passion had wakened wild and rife 

In my young heart, came crowding back 

Through the cold, hoary, frozen track 

Of years — yes, all my primitive fire 

Flashed with the rooted deep desire 

Of vengeance through my eyes, and gave 

The prospect of a glorious grave, 

If nothing more. I did not stay 

Parleying and reasoning, but away 

Flew on Revenge's wing, to raise 

One daring, universal blaze 

Of war, that on th' impostor's head 

Should burst, as from the lurid sky 
The scathing bolt, when fiery red, 

It hissing leaves its seat on high. 
I cared not who men worshipped, so 
Their arms could deal the deadly blow, 
Zohail* or Mithraf — 'twas not then 
The time to sift the faiths of men. 
The Ghebers were Mohammed's foes, 
My friends in consequence ; and those 
Who, when fair human nature bleeds, 
Can pause to weigh the worth of creeds, 



The planet Saturn. t The sun. 



ABDALLAH. 67 

Apportion out how oft and how 

Prayers shall ascend from hearts below, 

Have my worst curses! Heaven will grant 

The worthy all the good they want — 

The worthless punish — when or where 

To none is known. To act, to dare, 

Be what thy virtue bids thee now — 

To shrink from vice as hell — to bow 

To none but God, and if frail clay 

Bid the reverse, to disobey — 

This is thy duty, and if this 

To follow lead to endless bliss, 

'Tis well. If not — but man should bend, 

Not question what the Gods intend ! 

" The Ghebers mark us. See, yon height 
Lifts up thy much-loved home to sight ; 
That, that is Tayef ! Groves and bowers 
Breathe incense, and the glittering flowers 
Put on their loveliest smiles to greet 
With glory thy returning feet V' 

And it was Tayef — and the smiles 
Of home have many thousand wiles 
That words can ne'er embody — there 
Dwell all the joys of everywhere! 

f 2 



(J8 ABDALLAH. 

The trees, the mossy banks whereon 
We loved to sit, do every one 
Claim their particular greeting, when 
We view the hallowed spot again 
After long absence. Even the brook, 
The ever-flowing waters look 
A seeming welcome. — Oh! this life 
Has few such moments, as the strife 
Of feelings then creates. 'Tis sweet 
Even to regret them, and they fleet 
So swiftly by, that in the mind 
Nought, save regret, is left behind. 

The castle's gray and airy towers 
Rose high amidst green clustering bowers, 
That on the precipice's brow 
Basked in the day-spring's orient glow, 
And flung their breathing sweets below. 
The crowds that pressed its battlements, 
The curling smoke from thick-strewn tents, 
Which, like the eagles' dwellings hung 
The huge rough crags and trees among, 
The lances gleaming, and the hum 
Of distant multitudes that come 
Thick on his eager ear, convey 
The image of the future fray; 



ABDALLAH. 69 



The clash of arms, the rushing cry 
Of Home, Friends, Country, Victory! 
But these soon fled, one feeling swept 
Away their traces, and he wept — 
Wept tears of joy — and hurrying through 
The thronging crowd, that bending low 
Paid their unnoticed homage, found 
His mother. 

Quickly gathered round. 
Distinction lost, the happy, proud, 
Domestic circle — no one bowed 
To greet his coming, but each eye 
Was moist with joy; the buoyancy 
Of generous feeling gave to each 
The boldness of familiar speech. 
They questioned of his stay, and where, 
And how prolonged; and of the share 
Which each bore in the common grief, 
Spoke frequently. The sweet relief 
Of tears, too, mingled with the swell 
Of happy breasts that could not tell 
Their joy. Abdallah felt for all, 
And round the joyous busy hall 
Bounded with smiling eyes, to give 
The purest bliss for which we live. 



70 ABDALLAH. 

The Ghebers, with their fiery shrine, 
So closely firm can hate combine 
Discordant faiths — around the hearth 
Pressed to enjoy the cheering mirth 
Of ancient foes ; and, while without 
The braying horn, the warlike shout, 
The neighing coursers, and the din 
Of arms commingling, to begin 
The carnage seemed, in converse mild 
Of ancient wisdom, they beguiled 
The lapsing hours. The Prophet- King, 
Whom barbarous nations wondering 
Saw on his fiery bed repose 
Soft as on roses, while his foes 
Fell at his feet, — inspired the strain 
Enraptured of the Gheber train. 

Abdallah heard, and, mild and good 
On other subjects, felt his blood 
Boil high with rage at what he deemed 
Mere blasphemy — his sabre gleamed 
Half-drawn, — but all the gentleness 
With which the Gods had deigned to bless 
His spirit interposed. 

The day 
Insensibly had stolen away — 



ABDALLAH. 7 J 



And it was evening — forth he stole 

To calm the tempest of his soul 

In the cool whispering breeze that played 

Its gambols in the forest shade. 

The air's calm influence, the look 

Of music in the rippling brook, 

The nightingale's first notes, which flow 

Mellifluously sweet and slow, 

The soft light stealing from above — 

All, all conspired to wake the love 

That slumbered in his soul. He stood, 

And, in that listless dreaming mood 

Which lovers cherish, throwing by 

All faculties but memory, 

Recalled those dazzling hopes that rose 

At sight of her who, mid his foes, 

Was like the crystal gushing spring, 

To one who lost and wandering 

In the wide waste, that rises, — when 

He scarcely hoped to view again 

The dear remembered scene, which now 

Stretched out its emerald breast below. 

Remembrance bright envisioned came, 
Arraying Leilah's beauteous frame 



72 ABDALLAH. 

In tenfold beauty ; but along 
A heartless, dark, and withering throng 
Of doubts came also. Hope afar 
Beamed dimly, like a setting star 
Seen through the tenuous clouds that fly 
Along the deep blue evening sky. 
Or like the flitting prey that moves 
Light-footed through the twilight groves 
Before the half-awakened eye 
Of the grim lion rousing nigh. 

In every age where'er the flower 
Of love has bloomed, war's cursed power, 
With all the gloomy brood that wait 
On that fell messenger of Fate, 
Have come to blight it — but they have 
Ended their empire when the grave 
Closed on their victims ; all beyond 
Was fair and sunny as the fond 
Enraptured mind which, glowing free 
In buoyant youth, luxuriantly 
Could picture. Deep-bred worldly hate, 
Content in life's brief hour to sate 
Its fierce revenge, its course suspends 
When the frail being that wakes it ends. 



ABDALLAH. 73 

Not so fanaticism rears 

The piles of wreck, of blood, and tears. 

Unholy, that around her rise. 

Where Echo, wakened by the sighs 

Of hopeless suffering", lengthens round 

The deep reiterated sound. 

She bounds beyond the grave, pursues 

The fugitive spirit, and imbrues, 

As on Destruction's stream she stands. 

In life's last pulse her horrid hands. 

Her power Abdallah felt ; his mind 
Leaned from its base, as if the wind 
Winch o'er his frame in whisperings went 
Had waked some struggling storm, that pent 
Deep latent in his soul had lain. 
To burst, when roused, his frenzied brain. 
He thought of Leilah, — of the heaven 
Her sire imagined, — love had striven 
In vain to taint the living spring 
Of faith within his soul, or fling 
One doubt across the purer sky 
That arched it like a canopy. 
He saw her fair, — but saw that Death 
Had breathed upon her form his breath! 



74 ABDALLAH. 

Saw, while hell's torrent foamed between, 
Her image bound life's every scene, 
Beauty's bright spirit from her eyes 
Breathing celestial harmonies, 
As light springs through the sapphire skies ! 
But in their rays the curse of God 
Revelled as in its own abode, 
And withered every soul that came 
Beneath their soft unhallowed flame ! 
Had some pure essence from on high, 
That could have read the heart, been nigh 
While this young child of Faith and Love 

Gave up to each his heart a prey 
Alternately, — the net that, wove 

By passion, bound him, far away 
Struggling to cast, — he would have felt 
His bright ethereal essence melt 
With pity, at a sight so fell 
As that heart-locked domestic hell 
Which burns with unappeased glow 
Even in the calmest spot below. 
But in the lap of peace he could not lie, 
For Vengeance tossed her flaming brand on high 
Clothed in Religion's form, with humble look, 
Around her venomed influence she shook, 



ABDALLAH. 75 

Disguising' every dire command she gave 

In duty's shape, and whispering to the brave, 

" Your foes exterminate, or be destroyed!" 

Such terms has Hate in every age employed. 

Who could refuse to fight, or dare to fly, 

When led by Faith, that daughter of the sky? 

What though those tribes adored the stars, the fire ? 

False faith can equal rage with true inspire. 

Revenge is still the same if it infest 

A Sabsean Aj"ab, or a Christian's breast. 

The furious zeal which fired Abdallah's mind 

Was quite as wild, uncertain, undefined, 

As that which raised, in after-time, the war 

In Syria for the holy sepulchre. 

Forth o'er the sunny land the blast had ran, 

Gathered each desert horde and mountain clan ; 

And loud from every lip arose the cry, 

" Fate wills the fight, with God is victory!" 

Fair Tayef ne'er had seen her highlands prest 

By crowds so vast as on their emerald breast 

Now gleamed in war's habiliments, and gave 

The nation's picture, — faithful, bright, and brave ! 

The sun was up, the warriors' every limb, — 

Light as the burning beams that sprang from him, — 

Quivered with hope ; each heart to heaven addressed 

For victory a prayer ; and quenched the rest 



76 ABDALLAH. 

Of those bold wishes which, in souls like theirs, 
Swell their fierce hopes, and taint their holiest prayers. 
Through the high gate Abdallah's courser bounds, 
Eyes the bright crowd, and drinks the welcome sounds 
Which burst at sight of him whose look gave rise 
To hopes intense, and nameless ecstasies. 
Armed, at his side, his hoary sire came on, 
" Pleased that his age was honoured in his son ;" 
Joy's smiling beams his brimming eyes display, 
But dim their brightness, powerless their ray, 
As the cold sunshine of a winter's day. 

The Ghebers, with their saffron belts, were there, 
But viewed, received with cold suspicious air. 
Their faith not far dissimilar, their dress, 
Their look, gave rise to this unmanliness, — 
So true it is that men, by birth the same, 
For straws are foes, and murder for a name. 
Loud, as the men first strike the sable tents, 
The burst of grief flies o'er the battlements; 
Mothers look down in deep heart-springing woe 
On those they nursed, and bless them as they go I 
Wives rush to take a parting look of those 
They love, and curse their fierce fanatic foes ; 
Nor e'er reflect that they too claim a tear, 
Have homes as tender, and are loved as dear. 



ABDALLAH. 77 

Now from the hills the thronging tribes did pour, 
Darkening the plain, as on some level shore 
The mountain- waves rush in, the furious wind 
Raising the roaring element behind. 
The murmur, too, that o'er the silent earth 
Increasing crept, to that which owes its birth 
To shivering breaking waves, was liker far 
Than to the mere outsetting scene of war. 
Elate in strength along the glowing plain 
The proud steeds dashed impatient of the rein, 
The long lance quivering o'er their golden mane ; 
And they who sat on them in sanguine youth, 
Careless, and vain, and brave, might wake the ruth 
Of Slaughter's self, could Pity in the fiend 
One holy spot of calm possession find. 

But, no! — War's impious and Moloch jaws 
Must still have blood! — Its food the demon draws 
From human misery, and there are those 
Who on the deepening blackening tide of woes 
It vomits forth, delight to sport, and claim 
For their vile deeds the trumpetings of Fame ; 
And would be great, forsooth, because on them 
Fortune, perhaps, has placed her sparkling gem, 
Which on the dunghill or the rose-bed thrown 
Adds nothing to the sweetness of the one, 



78 ABDALLAH. 

Nor from the other takes its filth, but stands 
Distinct, as placed by its bestower's hands. 
But minds there are who, in their feebleness 
And poverty of thought, must downwards press 
Upon the sightless multitude for life, 
For bliss, and fame ; to them the senseless strife 
Of pigmy intellects, the gross machines 
Who, on the vulgar blood-besprinkled scenes 
Of carnage, wear man's semblances, gives power 
That shoots, and blooms, and withers in an hour ! 
And this is greatness I and its germs are cast 
Wide o'er the cheated world. In ages past, 
Nursed with the blood of millions, grew the plant, 
Of earth the first and worst inhabitant ! 
And time hath not subdued it ; still its blooms 
Its head amid the clouds, while graves and tombs 
Conceal its roots, the deadly juice supply 
By which it lives. 

Apart, from human eye 
Secluded, dwell those spirits who on earth 
Live for themselves, nor care who marks their worth 
Men see them not, or, seeing, view with fear 
Beings of other mould who linger here, 
But seem too glorious for this earthly sphere. 



ABDALLAH. 79 

All day they journeyed on, till, in the west, 
Nearing his gold and sapphire tent, to rest 
Leaned nodding from the sky the flaming sun. 
Forth from the deepening azure, one by one, 
Stole the faint stars, and, as his slumbers grew 
Deep and more deep, more fearlessly they threw 
Around their brightness of intenser hue ; 
'Till all the endless way of heaven grew bright 
With countless lamps of everlasting light. 
Thought gathers in that hour a sweeter zest 
As forth from its terrestrial sleeping nest 
Light unperceived it steals; and as it mounts, 
Beamings impalpable from million foimts, 
With purifying influence, compress 
Its creatures strange to shapes of loveliness. 

The army stopped, where, 'mid the sand-hills, rise 
The clustering date-trees, rustling to the sighs 
Of sultry flagging winds, that faint and die 
As toward the leaves with weary wings they fly. 
Awhile throughout the sable crested camp 
Ascended prayers, was seen the fitful lamp, 
Was heard the whispered greeting, the soft tread 
On yielding sand. 

Anon, and all was dead ; 



80 ABDALLAH. 

Buried in visioning sleep. Beneath that sky 

Existed then but one unsleeping eye, 

And 'twas Abdallah's,— so he deemed at least,— 

With hope and fear heaved one unsleeping breast. 

He girded on his sabre, softly passed 

The date-tree grove, and camp, and o'er the waste 

Pursued with breathless earnestness the path 

Marked with the curses of a father's wrath, — 

He sped to Mecca ! halloived by the breath , 

Of one too fair for iron-hearted death 

To breathe upon unwarned. One backward look 

His strong unthinking passion could not brook, 

Or he had seen his steps pursued by whom 

He hated not nor feared, but of whose doom 

He had been reckless on that troubled night, 

When he'd have fain been hidden from the sight 

Of earth and heaven ! 

But while they sweep along, 
Turn we to Mecca's maid the wandering song; 
Watch we her passionate breathings as they rise ; 
The dark, dark lustre of her Houri's eyes, 
Dimming or brightening as of love the flame 
In gloom or lightness o'er her senses came. 

Deep into her retentive soul had passed 
His image ; twined with every fibre fast 



ABDALLAH. $[ 

Of the warm heart it grew, — a second life 
Still dearer than the first it seemed, and rife 
With pleasure. 

From the holy crowd withdrawn 
That thronged her sire's, from eve till pearly dawn 
Sprang up the laughing east, she wandered lone, 
Imperturbably sad, and late had grown 
Impatient of society. 

The hours 
Devotion claimed she passed amid the bowers 
Of incense-breathing shrubs, where oft the dove 
Coo'd to the rising moon her faithful love ; 
And where, when every other note was mute, 
The bulbul, leader of the choral suite 
Of night, gave Echo such a melting strain 
To whisper to the breezes on the plain, 
From her lone hiding-place, that in despair 
She overturned her shell, — the musicked air 
Breathed over its mute round, no answer came 
To the impassioned songster, yet the same 
Exhaustless fount of music, flowing free, 
Melted on night's cold ear incessantly. 
And, to this bower, on that delicious night, 
Deep-breathing, clad in Asia's vesture light. 

G 



82 ABDALLAH. 

Leilah had stolen. No eye, she deemed, would pry 

Upon her love-sick musing privacy, — 

And so threw off her robe, for still the glow 

Of the warm turbulent sun did float below, 

Piercing through every vein, though he had fled 

For many an hour the sky. No shapeless dread 

Ruffled her soul, but in her sapphire eye 

Danced rays of love and nameless ecstasy. 

The bower looked toward the south, its couch, 

Sinking and swelling to the softest touch, 

Was made of rose and jasmine leaves; their scent 

Gave to the wooing wind, whose blandishment 

They felt, a sweet and harmonizing power 

That thrilled the lulled frame through every pore. 

Leilah now sat on it: — the moon-beam fell 

Full on her shape of beauty, and the swell 

And sinking of her bosom in the ray 

Moved as to music. 

Wild her thoughts did stray 
While on the pale moon gazing :— where was he 
Who oft had marked that planet, fervently, 
Outstretch her silver wings ? whose very soul 
Seemed bounding through her light beyond the goal 
Of mere mortality: — the springs of sense 
Throbbed on tumultuously in evidence 



ABDALLAH. 83 

Of warmest love. She looked upon the sky 
Till from the prospect grew satiety ; 
Then on the leafy couch, where every bud 
Poured out its separate sweet, till in a flood 
Of perfume drowned it mingled with the rest, 
Her lovely head she laid; as in their nest 
Cayster's swans repose, against its side 
Pressing their snowy necks, at eventide. 
Her waking dreams indulging, a soft tread 
Ruffled night's stillness ; all her visions fled. 
And trembling in the leaves she hid her head, — 
Listened, — 'twas but the night-wind moaning through 
Th' acacia's boughs, that, moving to and fro, 
Sounded so strange; — again! — and nearer still! — 
Her heart, against the palpitating hill 
Of snow that covered it, did wildly beat 
With fear, and, madly starting from her seat, 
She would have fled, but 'twas Abdallah's face 
That met her eye ! 

At night, in such a place, — 
How had he come ? — She knew not ; her alarms 
Were hushed to silence in his eager arms. 

" My Leilah," he began, " it boots not now 
To reason wherefore ;• war has bid to flow 

G 2 



84 ABDALLAH. 

Thy people's blood and mine ; but canst thou be 
Content where I am deemed an enemy 
To dwell? Canst thou with patience hear my name 
Coupled with hate, and infamy, and shame, 
As thou must do if here? — Reproach me not 
My faith, my name, my country,— 'tis my lot 
To credit, — thou pursue thy own, — and bleed, 
Nay, perish, for my brave forefathers' creed! 
But as heaven's noon-day tyrant fires the sands 
Beyond endurance, so the subtle brands 
Of love have fed upon my inmost soul 
Till it itself is fire ! The strong control 
Of faith exists no more, — thy eye must beam 
Delight upon me. Not the joyous dream 
Of bliss in after-life, though rapt it come 
Shedding its odours o'er the opening tomb, 
Can compensate for thee: — Here on my breast 
Thy beauteous head must nightly sink to rest ! 
I tell thee I have stemmed the tide of love 
Till it has overwhelmed me ; — from above 
Strength came, but it has withered, and I bow 
To take my doom from thy soft bidding now!" 

" Abdallah! since the thunder-shrouded night 
On which I saw thee last, the mouldering blight 



ABDALLAH. 85 

Of grief upon my ardent soul has hung, 

Lurked in my breast, and saddened on my tongue. — 

But why speak'st thou of blood? no enemy 

Of sire, or land, or faith can Leilah see, 

Brave as thou art, and faithful, e'er in thee ! 

Nay, canst thou not, Abdallah, on this spot, 

All other lands, all other friends forgot, 

Erect thy happy home ? Mohammed loves 

And cherishes thy name ; and, as two doves 

That nestle on one bough, the bliss of life 

We here may share together. Free from strife 

The gentle current of our days would flow 

To the last verge of being, and the blow 

That severed us from earth should lightly come, 

And rather bend than crush us to the tomb ! " 

" Oh, but for one deep thought, that lights, that lives 
Throned in my spirit's troubled shrine, and gives 
My being one firm tone, I could have hurled 
Defiance at mankind, — nay, all the world 
Kept at my sabre's point at bay, — but now 
It may not happen thus, and I must bow 
To woo thee, 'neath this all-enshrouding night, 
To pour life's balm into my soul by flight. 
To-morrow, Leilah, death's cold fangs may press 
To quietness the springing ferventness 



86 ABDALLAH. 

That heaves this bosom now, may dim the eye 

That now receives the gush of ecstasy 

Which streams from thine, may all the fervid dreams 

Of love and youth disperse, — yet, as the beams 

Of heaven's fair mistress yonder now do not, 

To-morrow night's eclipse permit to blot 

Their present brightness, — so my love would live 

Even on death's giddy verge, — prerogative 

Of daring souls ! — but, Leilah, all the jar, 

The carnage-breathing voice, and rout of war, 

Burst on these walls with morn: thy tender form 

Must not abide the rushing of the storm. 

I could not combat else, for every dart 

That left my bow would seem to pierce thy heart. 

My arm would falter in the fight, my eye 

See in each foe its beauteous mistress die ! 

Then fly with me ; my love shall round thee spread 

A pierceless canopy, — thy lovely head 

On safety's tranquillizing breast shall lie ; 

Thy heart shall body forth, and wing on high 

Love's warm deep orisons : — the peaceful bower 

Lies distant; haste, rise, lo! the midnight hour 

Has flown already by ! " 

In Leilah's breast 
There lurked a treacherous, hidden, silent guest, 



ABDALLAH. 87 

That listened not displeased. No earthly ear, 
Save that 'twas meant for, then was listening near, 
She thought, to catch the warm confession glowing 
As from her lips it came impassioned, flowing 
Like spheral music on the heart that quaffed 
As lulling nectar the forbidden draught. 

But that fair night had charms for other mood 
Than love : its lone, unwhispering solitude, 
Meet wandering time for holiness, had led 
Young Omar forth, who, with unconscious tread, 
The leafy bower approached. Before him lay, 
And oft he paused to look at it, the gray, 
The sleeping landscape. Man and beast had crept 
To their oblivious couch ; he too had slept 
Had not to heaven his daring spirit soared, 
Hovering with seraph-eye o'er things explored 
Till then by nothing human. Taking wing 
From those celestial heights, and gathering 
Sublimity from thence, from sphere to sphere 
Tumbling through ether, on his burning ear 
Caught sounds and airs of Paradise, that fell 
Like ocean's breathings through his wreathed shell. 
He walked beneath the lofty pillared shade 
Of tufted palms, whose airy branches made, 



88 . ABDALLAH. 

O'erhead, impervious arches ; through the mass 

Wandered no ray ; but on the waving grass 

That fringed the grove the moon her brightness shed 

As she had loved the spot, and burnished 

Her arching diamond-tipped horn that night 

That it might cast than wont a purer light. 

His aspirations, heavenward climbing, threw 

A curtain o'er his vision, and he drew 

In moody meditation near the spot 

Where sat the loving pair, but saw them not 

Till fell upon his ear these melting words, 

" I love, — I live for thee!" 

The trembling chords 
Of feeling took the sounds, and to his heart 
Pierced their dread import like a burning dart. 
Firm to the spot transfixed, as her of yore 
Turned to a pillar on the dead sea shore 
For looking back on home, he stood and listened; 
His heart beat furiously, his dark eyes glistened 
Like the fell tiger's, when from out his lair 
He trembles ere he springs. Th' unconscious fair 
Proceeded loud and carelessly, as they 
Were the sole two on earth. 

" Away, away 



ABDALLAH. 89 

Dark, dreadful creed ! — I love, — I live for thee ! 
My sire has spoke in vain, — it cannot be, — 
We were made for each other, and the gods — 
I rave! — the Being from those blest abodes 
That glitter in yon sky has willed it thus ; 
And we will fly together: if for us 
The date-tree shed its fruit, th' acacia wave 
Her saffron-head, the limpid current lave 
Our gentle limbs ; 'tis plain that we are given 
To live, to love, by all-indulging heaven ! — 
I fly with thee!" 

" Die first!" was muttered forth, 
" Die, ere thou blot thy father's stainless worth 
By treachery so foul!" 

And in her breast 
Deep sank the poniard : o'er her snowy vest 
Trickled the red warm blood, her lover's hand 
Deep-staining. 

Had the forked ignited brand 
Of Jove, wide launching from the gloomy heaven, 
Pierced through his wildly throbbing breast, and riven 
Its crumbling fibres, through Abdallah's frame 
There had not shot a more devouring flame. 



90 ABDALLAH. 

Omar stood full before him, — Leilah fell 
Back in his arms as dead, the gentle swell 
Of the empurpled bosom solely giving 
Unquestioned argument the heart was living. 
With one firm hand he held her to his side 
In misery's worst extreme ; his tongue denied 
To utter his heart's curse. Th' assassin stood 
As if to mark the ebbing of that blood 
Whose every drop, like fire upon his soul, 
Fell scorching. He had reached the fated goal 
Of all life's pleasure, and he would not fly 
As one who husbands breath, and fears to die. 
He held the deep-stained dagger, on his foe 
Ready to plunge, but ere the fatal blow- 
He would enjoy revenge. 

" Thy leman, see, 
Arab, no longer loves thee ! If from me 
She knew to stray, this hand has known to give 
Death to her passion! — and that thou dost live 
Thank my revenge : I would not have thee die 
Ere thy ear revel on her latest sigh ! 
Look at her, Chief, she knows thee not ! as well 
Might she repose on Eblis' arm in hell! — 
But I bar out the moon-beam, — let it play 
On her lascivious cheek ; 'tis fit so gay, 



ABDALLAH. 91 

So warm a damsel's spirit should take flight 
Beneath yon lamp of heaven's all- chastening 'light, 
For it wants purifying ! " 

" Fiend of hell! 
Thy dastard arm has reached its aim too well," 
Replied Abdallah. — " Leilab, he thou there, 
An instant I resign to heaven's care 
Thy lovely spirit. — Now, thou coward slave, 
Take from my hand thy passage to the grave ! " 
And out his sabre flashed; and Omar stood 
Burning to quench his anger in his blood. 
Fierce hate on either side its lava-springs 
Threw o'er the heart; and jealousy her stings 
Fretting and writhing round it, gave a power 
Seldom before exerted. 

'Twas the hour 
When few are not asleep ; for midnight then 
Had passed, and stampt her lulling seal on men. 
But, in the Prophet's palace, still there were 
Those who entreated heaven in lengthened prayer. 
They felt disturbed their orisons, — the sound 
Of clashing weapons loudly echoed round. 
They left their carpets, snatched their arms, and came 
Tossing between the trees their torches' flame ; 



92 ABDALLAH. 

Approached the bower, the infidel beheld, 
Known by his plume, who now in fury held 
Prostrate on earth his foe with arm upraised 
Ready to search his heart. 

The torches blazed, 
The crowd rushed in, the fight unequal grew, 
" The Chief retreated, but retreating slew," 
Rushed t'ward the bower to seize his murdered fair 
And bear her from the fray ; but gleaming there 
Torches and swords received him ; not one glance 
Could reach, through thronging foes, her countenance. 
He heard her speak, he heard her call his name, — 
The sounds shot through his ears like darts of flame. 
In vain his sabre scattered death around, 
Foes sprang like wizards from the teeming ground ; 
And he was growing faint, and Leilah's cries 
Now died upon the distance. O'er his eyes 
Floated a misty darkness, nearing death 
Already seemed to thicken in his breath ; 
When something like a whirlwind through the crowd 
Opened a long wide vista. Shouting loud 
In rushed a warrior stern, whose paly lance, 
On whose unstained point the moon-beams dance ; — 
The frighted Moslems fly. Abdallah sees 
The Gheber chief, whose strange appearance frees 



ABDALLAH. 93 

His body from its toils, but from his mind 

No force could break what linked it still behind. 

Straight through the panicked throng their sabres made 

A bloody outlet, and the hanging shade 

Of wide o'er arching palms concealed their flight. 

But who can tell what misery that night 

Rankled beneath the calm unruffled brow 

Of Mecca's Prophet ? What if outward show 

Of grief was wanting? it was burning where 

A father must be sensitive : the air, 

The voice, the outward carriage may bespeak 

The heart as unperturbed as the cheek ; 

For genius would be callous, if it could, 

And stagnate to a pond the flowing blood 

That speaks its link with earth ; — yet man must feel 

His nature's summonses, — he cannot steel 

His bosom if he would ; for, low or high, 

Grief will devour the heart or dim the eye. 

When first some wan disciple ventured near 

His sacred person, and with holy fear 

The horrid deed narrated, he beheld 

His grandeur fading from him, unrepelled 

Instinctive horror crept through all his veins, 

And scarce his voice its wonted force retains. 

He hurries to his child, and o'er her face 

Bends in intensest sorrow; every trace 



94 ABDALLAH. 

Of power and majesty had left his eye, 

And much it cost him to preserve it dry. 

He could not speak before his people, so 

He nodded to retire, and, pensive slow, 

The faithful left the presence. Then, oh, then 

Did he assert his claim to rank with men. 

Tears dimmed his eyes, — upon his aged breast 

He pillowed that young head he oft had prest 

With a proud father's hand: he would believe 

Life in that ebbing fount might find reprieve 

From that high heaven through life by him adored, 

But ne'er with such deep earnestness implored. 

But soon he felt it vain, and never yet 

Did the deserted state of man beget 

Such sorrow in his soul. 

" My child, my child! 
Why swims thy eye so languidly — so wild 
Why rolls it now? — It is thy father, girl, 
That breathes upon thy face — the giddy whirl 
Of frenzy works upon my brain ! — oh, speak, 
Who murdered thee, my daughter? Who could 

wreak 
Such dreadful vengence on a form like this, 
Breathing young joy, and harmony, and bliss? 



ABDALLAH. 95 

Speak, child! — canst thou not speak? — oh! her wild 

eye 
Will beam no more — 'tis glazing rapidly ! 
Oh God! her heart is still!" 

And it was still 
For ever; passion struggling now with will 
At length bore off the victory — on earth 
The Prophet fell : he had not from his birth 
Nourished with equal ferventness of love 
Another image — had not interwove 
Among his heart-chords, source and seat of woes ! 
One of those slips of being which arose 
From his existence, as the one that now 
Lay like a blood-besprinkled shape of snow, 
Freezing his soul. 

The hand that thus had laid 
In dust the Prophet's head, had erst in aid 
Of his bold projects dipt itself in crime, 
In blood, in death ! and was in aftertime 
To wield the mystic sceptre-wand which grew 
Out of that trunk whose sapling now it slew. 
But unsuspected — welcomed — ere the morn 
Around the palace to his braying horn 



96 ABDALLAH. 

Thronged the brave veterans whose swords had built 
Thrones for their masters, whose insatiate guilt, 
Though still allowed to share, no portion gave 
To them, but toils, and danger, and a grave. 
But still the Prophet was not seen— his eye, 
The beacon to the shore of victory, 
Blazed not to cheer the drear and eyeless sky. 
And till he came one universal blank 
Depressed the multitude. From rank to rank 
Omar passed round in vain; Mohammed stood 
Like a lone mountain in a shoreless flood, 
On which wild hope and courage might repose 
When life's last wave fell slumbering to its close. 

Meantime, along the solitary waste, 

In shapeless wreck of soul, Abdallah passed. 

No word escaped him, that which raged within — 

Thoughts of despair, impiety, and sin 

Of deadliest hue — claimed no affinity 

With language ; crumbling nature seemed to be 

Withering to one black scroll, and with the earth 

His spirit sinking to its place of birth. 

The Gheber broke not silence ; through the clear 

Cool night, disturbed by the growling drear 

At intervals of wolves, they reached the grove 

Of date-trees, lisping to the winds that rove 



ABDALLAH. 97 

The earth ere dawn; his mute companion turned 
His head towards him, and, in words that burned, 
Gave him his thanks, his blessing-. 

« Holy God! 
Shower on this man thy mercy; he has trod 
The path of danger, — may thy blessing light, 
And shield his way as it has done this night!" 
And darting, with the words, between the trees 
Was lost in darkness. — 

Now the morning breeze 
Frolicked in golden clouds, and ere the sun 
Had put his burning crown of glory on, 
Rolled out his ruby masses from the sky, 
Castles and seas in wild variety ; 
And o'er his wide dominions streaming bright 
With azure-tinted atomies of light, 
Shook from his ether wings a richer scent 
Than e'er before embalmed the firmament. 

The streams of war are moving, and the plain 
Glitters with cimetars ; in either train 
Fury has breathed her spirit, and they come, 
Decked out as gorgeous trophies of the tomb. 

H 



98 ABDALLAH. 

The men of Tayef see before their line 

Abdallah like a star of glory shine ; 

But whoso marked his countenance beheld 

A daring spirit difficultly quelled 

By waning reason — in his gloomy eye 

Was more of death than hope of victory. 

In his impatience far before he rode, 

Turned round, and oft his mazed steps retrod. 

And once, as he restrained his steed, there flew 

A feeble arrow by ; before his view 

It dropped — a letter on its point he saw, 

And his blood crept with dark, confused awe. 

From his proud steed he sprang, and opening it 

Found this short melancholy sentence writ. — 

" Thy Leilah sleeps! Her spirit, ere it passed 
The mortal bourne, upon thy image last 
Dwelt with a fearful clinging. Eager death, 
Ere it absorbed the small remains of breath, 
These words permitted; — ' Go, Honaiah, go, 
And let the youthful Chief of Tayef know 
His image will not leave me— nearing skies, 
Celestial bowers, unfading Paradise, — 
God does not banish it! But when this breast 
Shall have been hushed to deep eternal rest, 



ABDALLAH. 99 

Tell him his Leilah does not bid him yield 
His honour up ; but if the battle-field 
Bring my loved sire before him, let him spare 
As he would God's eternal mercy share !' 
Such were her latest words ! " 

Upon his brain 
Her deep rich voice did seem to float again ; 
Before his eyes her form went flitting by, 
Rose in the breeze, and mingled with the sky. 
And on he dreamed, till now the clanging bray 
Of the loud trumpet bore his soul away 
To drink revenge, and mingle in the fray ! 
For up the deep defile the Prophet's van 
Was seen emerging — man succeeding man. 
A lengthened line ! 

His sire commands the hills, 
Blocks up the passes, every eminence fills 
With chosen bands, and bids his ardent son 
Right through the vale in daring march sweep on. 

Numbers were with the Prophet: desert clans 
Of wavering faith, from whom the caravans 
Evils anticipate ; and those that dwell 
Where since arose his tomb; the camel-bell 

H 2 



100 ABDALLAH. 

Tinkled mid those who venerate the dove 
Cooing in Mecca's consecrated grove 
That waves o'er Zem Zem's well. In front was seen, 
Floating its emerald waves, the standard green, 
The Moslem symbol. On his mule of white, 
With countenance unperturbed as the light 
That shone upon his face, the Prophet came, 
Counting the rays that centred in his name. 

The opening shock of fight to that wild roar 
That like an earthquake shakes the solid shore 
Of Orellana, seemed, when wave with wave 
Foaming contends, when rushing torrents rave, 
Bounding aloft, and pouring in the womb 
Of the wide fathomless sea, that as a tomb, 
Dark, deep, interminable, swallows all 
The mad outrushing waters. Indians call 
This sight, which from the distant shuddering brink 
Moored in their frighted skiff they see, and think 
A war of demons, Pororoca. 

Now 
Man realised on earth as dread a show. 
The men of Tayef from the crested height 
Of hanging hills rushed headlong to the fight; 



ABDALLAH. 101 

Slings, darts, and javelins, from above were thrown, 
And he who flung pursued his weapon down. 
Below Abdallah, cold his heart and steeled, 
Passed like the simoom o'er the withering field ; 
Death hung upon his rear, and when he threw 
His lance, pursued and tipped it as it flew. 
He met the Prophet, but remembering her 
Whose slightest wish could sacredness confer 
On all it touched, forbore his breast, and turned 
For Omar, where the fiercest combat burned. 
The Moslems now gave way; and, steeped in blood, 
He marked where Omar like a tiger stood, 
Glutting his carnage appetite — 'twas him 
He sought, and, quivering every manly limb, 
Burst on towards him, and his yearnings were 
Strong as the lioness's when her bare 
Unmaned head she thrusts against the spear 
That pierced her young. 

No sentiment of fear 
In Omar's breast ere harboured, but he felt 
Much of his manhood soften, as 'twould melt 
At his dark rival's look ; — instinctively 
He traced a backward step, and with his eye 
Seemed to invite a contest where but heaven 
Should arbitrate between them. 



102 ABD ALLAH. 

He had given 
His gage to all mankind, no craven thought 
Could ever taint his soul, and now he sought 
A secret warfare, where no human eye 
Might greet the victor, whosoe'er should die. 

Deep mid the mountain's roots a winding way 
Led from the valley, where the noontide ray 
Falls glimmering 'tween the rocks' impending heads, 
As they would topple from their giddy beds 
Seeming ; his cautious steps here Omar bent, 
His fierce foe following, their dark intent 
By few perceived, Arrived, with eager glance 
They searched each other, ere the glittering lance 
Flew on its errand. Now the combat draws 
Near to its close ; they strike, they reel, they pause — 
Omar lies prostrate — pointed at his heart 
Why stays Abdallah's steel? Some wandering dart 
Has pierced his brain! — Nay, 'neath that hiding rock 
The Moslem stands that sped it. — With the shock 
Of the strong bow he seems bent forward still 
Waiting on tiptoe, if his wonted skill 
Have not deceived him doubting. 

Meleck's child 
Has breathed his last, and now with rapture wild 



ABD ALLAH. ]03 

Omar stands o'er his conqueror, who lies 
Grasping his sabre, and his half-closed eyes 
Seem glaring vengeance still! 

He wrenched the steel 
From the stiff hand that held but could not feel 
Its burden, and with scrutinising eye 
The youthful form and manly symmetry 
Of his young foe examined. Mounting then 
His panting barb, he down the rapid glen 
Hurried to join the field. The Prophet there 
In imminent danger stood. The sultry air 
Echoed with cries — despairing he had thrown 
Himself among the enemy, alone, 
To meet a glorious death. 

From rank to rank 
'Twas said the pride of Araby had sank 
Beneath an unknown hand, and rumours gain 
Swift wings of lightning on the battle plain; 
For now upon Al Meleck's ear it fell, 
That silent lay his son. Some shaft of hell 
Did seem to pierce the old man's heart as this 
Last rivulet of life and spring of bliss 
Became dried up for ever. Dreary night 
Seemed to close round him, and amid the fight, 



104 ABDALLAH. 

Heedless, deranged, he wandered, thinking on 
His future gloomy home, his wife, his son, 
Till his heart sickened ; till some fatal quiver 
Sent forth a reed that silenced it for ever ! 
Then fled his tribe — Mohammed's standard then 
Floated triumphant o'er those desert men; 
And up from Honain's field, mid slaughtered foes, 
His star of empire wildly blazing rose. 



NOTES. 



NOTE\ 



Page 2. 



}\~hcre you meet 
A sictct spot, in the desert, ire. 

The greater part of Arabia 'Yemen excepted being covered 
with drv sands, t :to rocks, interspersed here and there 

with some fruitful spots, which receive their greatest advantages 
from their water and palm-trees." — Sale. 



2 

And the fair plant ic hi Meccan balm. 

'•• According to Puny. ' at the time of the Trojan war. unguents 
consisted of oi'.s perfumed with the odours of flowers, and chiefly 
of roses.' Hasselquist speaks of oil. impregnated with the tube- 
rose and the jasmine ; but the balm oi Mecca was preferred to 
pverv other." — Beckford. 



108 NOTES. 

Page 2. 

Along the sand, fyc. 

" Dans ces deserts parsemes de rochers nuds, et dans ces plaines 
basses, rien n'arrete Taction du soleil, qui brule tous les vegetaux 
et reduit les terres en sable." — Niebuhr. 

Page 2. 

On- his head 
Nodded the heron-plume. 

"On the sides of the cistern, she noticed appendages of royalty, 
diadems and feathers of the heron, all sparkling with carbuncles." 
— Beckford's Caliph Vathek. 



Page 3. 

The crescent had been shorn 
Of the bright rays of glory it had borne 
On earth for many an age. 

It appears from innumerable testimonies that, among the objects 
of worship of the Sabasan Arabs, the Moon held a very distin- 
guished rank, and was esteemed one of their most ancient divini- 
ties. We find that the Ka'abah, the most ancient and celebrated 



NOTES. 109 

edifice in the eastern world, was one of her temples ; and that her 
worship was supposed to have been instituted by the Patriarch 
Adam. The crescent, therefore, must have been a very early 
symbol; and the one in the Ottoman flag may be a relic of 
Sabasism. 

rf They (the Sabaeans) fable of Adam (not being the first man, 
but born of a woman) that he was a Prophet of the Moon ; and, by 
preaching, persuaded men to worship the Moon, and composed 
books of husbandry." — Maimonides apud Stanley. 

" The ancient Arabs particularly adored the Moon, Venus, and 
Saturn. The Ka'abah, to which they repaired in pilgrimage before 
the time of Mohammed, was a temple consecrated to the Moon." — 
M. Langles. 

" The Persian etymology of the names of the two sacred cities, 
Medina and Mecca, seems to prove that it was the Persians who 
introduced into Arabia Sabseism, or the worship of the stars and 
planets. Mohammed-Mohsyn, author of a very learned Persian 
work on the Twelve Religions of Asia, entitled " DcLbistcin, or the 
School of Manners, derives the word Mekkah, from the Persian 
words mah (moon) and kah (place), place of the moon ; or, where 
the moon is worshipped : and medynah, from mah (moon), and dyn 
(religion), religion of the moon." — M. Langles, Collect. Port, de 
Voyages. 



Page 3. 

Tayef. 

" Je n'ai pu decouvrir aucune ville remarquable dans Tinterieur 
de cette province (Hejaz) excepte celle de Tayef, situee sur une 



110 NOTES. 

haute montagne, dans une contree si agreable, que les auteurs 
Arabes comparent ses environs a ceux de Damas et de Sana. Cette 
ville fournit Djidda et la Mecque de excellens fruits, principale- 
ment de raisins, et fait un commerce considerable d'amandes qui 
croissent en abondance dans son territoire." — Niebuhr. 



Page 5. 

When those fair -plumes, that now 
Wave like untainted xoreaths of Caspian snow, 
Would melt at touch, hung purpling in the ray 
As bends the lotus darkling 'neath the spray. 

" Here (Panwell) is a pagoda, by a tank nearly a mile in cir- 
cumference, on the water of which float multitudes of the beautiful 
red lotus; the flower is larger than that of the white water-lily, and 
is the most lovely of the nymphaeas I have seen." — Mrs. Graham's 
Journal of a Residence in India. 



Page 6. 

The night 
Hung out her lesser lamps, that, burning bright 
Along the cold dark firmament, gave birth 
To many a wild and beauteous tale on earth. 

" When men began to unite in society, they found it necessary to 
enlarge the means of their subsistence, and consequently to apply 
themselves to agriculture ; and the practice of agriculture required 



NOTES. 1 1 J 

the observation and knowledge of the heavens. It was necessary 
to know the periodical return of the same operations of nature, the 
same phenomena of the skies ; it was necessary to regulate the 
duration and succession of the seasons, months, and years. In 
order to this it was requisite to become acquainted with the march 
of the sun, which, in its zodiacal revolution, showed itself the first 
and supreme agent of all creation ; then of the moon, which, by its 
changes and returns, regulated and distributed time ; finally of the 
stars, and even of the planets, which, by their appearance and dis- 
appearance on the horizon and the nocturnal hemisphere, formed 
the minutest divisions." " Having observed that the produc- 
tions of the earth bore a regular and constant connection with the 
phenomena of the heavens ; that the birth, growth, and decay of 
each plant, were allied to the appearance, exaltation, and decline 
of the same planets, the same groupe of stars ; in short, that the 
languor or activity of vegetation seemed to depend on celestial in- 
fluences, men began to infer from this an idea of action, of power, 
in those bodies, superior to terrestrial beings ; and the stars, dis- 
pensing scarcity or abundance, became powers, genii, gods, authors 

of good and evil." " The Ethiopian of Thebes called stars of 

inundation, or of Aquarius, those under which the river began to 
overflow ; stars of the ox or bull, those under which it was conve- 
nient to plough the earth ; stars of the lion, those under which that 
animal, driven by thirst from the deserts, male his appearance on 
the banks of the Nile ; stars of the sheaf, or of the harvest-maid, 
those under which the harvests were got in, &c." — Volney, Ruins 
of Empires. 

" Nor were the planets only, but the signs and all the rest of the 
stars esteemed gods by the Chaldaeans ; ' for they burnt incense to 
the Mazaloth, and to all the rest of the host of heaven/ Mazal is 
a star : they called the signs (of the zodiac) the twelve Mazaloth : 



112 NOTES. 

the zodiac the circle of Mazaloth : the Septuagint renders it 
/j.a£ovpotQ, which Suidas interprets the constellations called zooha, 
signs. This agrees with what Diodorus reports of the Chaldaeans, 
that i they held the principal gods to be twelve, to each of which 
they attributed a month, and one of the signs of the zodiac/" — 
Stanley. 

Lactantius, who seriously undertook to refute the opinions of 
the Sabaeans, to strengthen his reasoning, brought forward three 
lines from a work of Ovid, now lost ; in consideration of which we 
pardon his grave trifling. " How much more prudent than the 
fancied followers of wisdom," says he, " was Ovid, who believed 
that the stars were by the Deity placed in the firmament that they 
might dispel the horror of the darkness of the night !" — He con- 
cludes his phenomena with these verses : — 

" Tot numero, taliq ; Deus simulacra figura 
Imposuit coelo : perque atras sparsa tenebras 
Clara pruinosae jussit dare lumina nocti." 

Lact. De Orig. Erroris. 

There is, in Macrobius, much curious matter relating to the wor- 
ship of the stars, and the opinions entertained of their nature by 
ancient nations ; but it would be to render these notes too prolix to 
copy one-tenth of what he says on the subject. 



Page 8. 

And thou, O blessed Sun, 
Parent of daring thoughts, O lead me on ! 

The Sabaeans held, that the sun is the greatest god ; for they 



NOTES. n.3 

plainly assert that the sun governs the superior and inferior worlds ; 
and call him the great Lord, the Lord of Good."— Stanley. 

The prominent figure which the sun made in the mythology of 
Greece is too well known to need a repetition of its tale : it 
appears to have inspired similar sentiments, and to have enjoyed 
equal honours in all nations. 



Page 10. 

The cloak 
That, black and ample, still the emir spoke. 

The inferior Arabs, as may well be imagined, are not very scru- 
pulous about the colour of their cloaks ; but the emirs, and men of 
rank in the east, have, of course, their fashions and tastes like other 
nobles: and fashion is not so unchangeable a geddessin those coun- 
tries as one might at first imagine. Their very beards are made, 
both in shape and co!our, to conform to the mode. " They perfume 
them highly, and often tinge them ; sometimes of a fine red, some- 
times with saffron, and with various other dyes. Red was the 
favourite colour of Mohammed, Abubeker, and Omar ; and their 
example was greatly followed. ' — Richardson on the Languages, 
fyc. of Eastern Nations. 

This whimsical piece of luxury is net the only one in which the 
descendants of Ismael indulge,— they paint their faces, and even 
their eyes ; and that the practice was of great antiquity we learn 
as well from scripture as from profane history. The Medes and 
Parthians practised it. Surena, who defeated and took prisoner 
the richest of the Roman generals, was in the habit of painting his 
face, after the manner of the Medes, says Plutarc i. 

I 



1 1 4 NOTES. 



Page II. 

He stood on Arafat's sky-circled brow. 

Mount Arafat is distant about three miles from Mecca; and 
from its lofty summit descend numerous rills of fine clear water. 
Notwithstanding this, many ages elapsed before the Arabs suc- 
ceeded in bringing its waters to the sacred city. It was frequently 
attempted : in Mohammed's time, by Zobair, one of the principal 
men of the tribe of Koreish, successlessly ; but, being begun at the 
charge of a wife of Soliman, the Turkish emperor, was effected 
about two centuries ago. —See Sale's Preliminary Discourse to the 
Koran. 



Page 13. 
The midnight ghoul. 

" Goul, or ghul, in Arabic, signifies any terrifying object, which 
deprives people of the use of their senses. Hence it became the 
appellative of that species of monster which was supposed to haunt 
forests, cemeteries, and other lonely places ; and believed not only 
to tear in pieces the living, but to dig up and devour the dead." — 
Richardson. 

" He looked not less pale and haggard than the goules that 
wander at night among the graves." — Beckford, Caliph Vathek. 



NOTES. ilS 

Page 15. 

The porphyry cave, where erst Mohammed lay. 

It was in a cave of Mount Arafat that Mohammed is said to have 
received leaf by leaf the -whole of his revelation. Soliiude is as 
favourable to genius as it is to mysticism ; and it is not improbable 
that the Prophet sketched out, in that retreat, those bold plans 
which required ages for their accomplishment. — See Sale and 
Gibbon. 

Page 17. 

Hajnsa. 

Han sa. was killed in a subsequent combat, but I have despatched 
him here for convenience. 

Page 19. 

Before his eyes there came, 
Borne on a cloud of bright ethereal flame, 
A form of heaven — Zoharah. 

u Allat (the symbol of Venus) was the idol of the tribe of Thakif, 
who dwelt at Tayef, and had a temple consecrated to her in a place 
called Nakhlah. This idol Al Bftogheirah destroyed bv Moham- 



H6 NOTES. 

med's order, who sent him and Abu Sophian on that commission, 
in the ninth year of the Hejra. The inhabitants of Tayef, espe- 
cially the women, bitterly lamented the loss of this their deity, 
which they were so fond of, that they begged of Mohammed, as a 
condition of peace, that it might not be destroyed for three years, 
and, not obtaining that, they asked only a month's respite ; but he 
absolutely denied it." " The ancient Arabs had seven cele- 
brated temples, dedicated to the seven planets, one of which, Beit 
Ghomdan, was built in Sanaa, the metropolis of Yemen, by Dahar, 
to the honour of Al Zoharah, or the planet Venus." — Sale. 

,l Like Zohara, on the rosy fields of morn, when she rises, with 
her sparkling attendants, from bathing in the Eastern deep."— Tales 
of Inatulla. 

Page 23. 

O'er the arid ground, 
That like a pathless rampart stretches round 
The sacred city. 

The country round Mecca is composed of the same species of sand 
as that which forms the surface of the great desert, and there are 
found in it no plants but those which grow in the most arid wastes. 
This girdle of sand is bounded by mountains, abounding in water, 
and covered with verdure. From these hills the city, rearing up 
her white minarets, like the queen of the desert, may be seen to 
great advantage. — See Niebuhr, Gibbon, &c. 



NOTES. 1 1 7 



Page 23. 

The palm and almond grove, where softly coos 
Th' inviolable dove. 

The reason why the doves of Mecca are held sacred, perhaps, is, 
that the city and its environs are so considered ; every thing, con- 
sequently, which makes Mecca an asylum escapes the persecution 
of man, hunting and fowling being prohibited throughout its ter- 
ritories. 



Page 23. 

He rightly knew 
The path he chose teas narrow as the one 
That rears its dizzy height Death's flood upon. 

The bridge al Sirah, over which the faithful pass in their way to 
Paradise. It is as narrow as the edge of a keen cimetar, and of 
course rather difficult to walk over; but the houris, beckoning 
from the farther extremity of it upon the passengers, cause them to 
march on at all hazards ; and we are told that some, who are not 
over perfect in their faith, but fond of houris nevertheless, in the 
great haste they make, tumble in, and are carried off, I presume, 
by Eblis. — See Sale, and the other Commentators on the Koran. 



118 NOTES. 



Page 27. 

He raised his eyes, and saw —not that fell sprite 
His soul had pictured, but a form as bright 
As Eblis in his pristine robe of light. 

The historians of the Prophet have been very particular in their 
description of his personal beauty ; but I have no where met with 
a passage that conveyed so advantageous an idea of him as the fol- 
lowing. " II avait une eloquence vive et forte, depouillee d'art et 
de methode, telle qu'il la fallait a des Arabes ; un air d'autorite et 
d'insinuation, anime par des yeux per^ans, et par une physionome 
heureuse, Tintrepidite d' Alexandre, sa liberalite, et la sobriete dont 
Alexandre aurait eu besoin pour etre un grand homme en tout." — 
Voltaire, Essai sur les Mceurs. 

As to the beauty of Eblis, sufficient is said in many passages of 
the Koran to let us see how highly the Arabs thought of him before 
his fall. To show his superiority to mortals, it is said that he was 
created of fire, while we were formed of clay ; and the insolence 
with which he treated the first model of man is sufficient to let us 
into the secret of his character. —See the Commentators on the 
Koran. 



Page 29. 

Water— from the holy spring. 

Zem Zem, whose waters, so called from their murmuring, are 
themselves rather brackish. It is no wonder, however, that, such 



NOTES. 119 

as it was, the well Zem Zem obtained the epithet holy in such a 
place as Mecca, where water is so great a rarity. It is said that 
the first snow -which was ever seen in the city was carried thither 
from a great distance by one of the caliphs ; but there vras no ne- 
cessity for his carrying it so far, as it falls plentifully in the moun- 
tains of Arabia ; and might have been brought there with very 
little trouble, had the Arabs thought it worth carrying. u Le froid 
produit par l'elevation du terrein y occasionne de neiges. qui ne 
subsistent pas cependant jamais long-te:: s.*' •• On nous as- 
sure, qu'on avoit de la glace sur quelques montagnes, et qu'il geloit 
quelquefois a Sana, endroit situe entre les montagnes dans Finte- 
rieur du pays.'* — Neibuhr. 



P gc 30. 

My camel-bell, 
Soft-tinkling through the rieh responsive deit. 

The Prophet, in his younger days, made two or three journeys 
into Syria. I have not met with any authority for his being at 
Tayef in quality of merchant, but he might have been there. 



Page 33. 

As uhtn the sun 
Darts down his rays upon the waste. 
The seraub leads the traveller on 
Its dim, unreal waves to taste ; — 

But &s to the unbelievers, their works are like the vapour in a 



J 20 NOTES. 

plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when 
he cometh thereto, he findeth it to be nothing." — Koran, c. 24. 

" Towards evening many persons were astonished with the ap- 
pearance of a long lake, enclosing several little islands ; notwith- 
standing the well-known nature of the country, many were positive 
that it was a lake, and one of the surveyors took the bearings of it. 
It was, however, one of those illusions which the French call 

mirage, and the Persians sirraub." " The ground was quite 

level and smooth, composed of dried mud or clay, mixed with par- 
ticles of sparkling sand : there were some tufts of grass, and some 
little bushes of rue, &c at this spot, which were reflected as in 
water, and this appearance continued at the ends when viewed 
from the middle." — Elphinstone's Account of the Kingdom of 
Caubul. 



Page 41 . 

That Day was stealing from the sky, 
And Night his rosy steps pursuing. 

" Turn instituit lucem ut criginale quiddam Sed tenebra? 

secutas sunt sicut umbra personam." — Hyde, Religio Vet. Pers. 



Page 45. 

The sacred spot 
Has never been a tyrant's lot. 

The Arabs have preserved their liberty, of which few nations 



NOTES. 



121 



can produce so ancient monuments, with very little interruption, 
even from the very deluge." — Sale. 



Page 46. 

The still 
Moss-bedded, crystal mountain-rill 
Swelled to a torrent. 

That the mountain rivulets swell, in tropical climates, to a very 
great size, after a rain-storm, may be easily imagined ; but the ra- 
pidity with which they increase is almost incredible. — See 
Niebuhr. 



Page 40. 

The symbol, pure and bright, 
Of him who called the world from night. 

" Les Gaures ne rendent pas au feu les honneurs qu'on pourroit 
s'imaginer sous le titre d'adoration." — Tavernier. 

" They (the Ghebers) not only attribute no sort of sense or rea- 
soning to fire in auy of its operations, but consider it as a purely 
passive blind instrument, directed and governed by the immediate 
impressions on it of the will of God." — Grose. 



122 NOTES. 



Page 48. 

Each lofty column's base displayed 
A rattling skeleton. 

" lis n'enterrent point leurs morts ni ne les brulent. lis les 
portent kors de la ville en un grand place fermee— ou il y a quantite 
de piliers — et ils lient le mort debout a un de ces piliers le visage 
du cote de Forient." — Tavernier. 



Page 50. 
A stranger, then, had seen the flame. 

" II n'y a jamais eu de peuples plus jaloux de cacher les mys- 
teres de leur religion, que les Gaures " (Ghebers). — Tavernier. 

" Pendant que j'etois a Kerman je les priai de me faire voir ce 
feu, et ils me repondirent que cela ne se pouvoit." — Ibid. 

Page 53. 
Zerdusht's celestial laws, fyc. 
For an account of his laws and institutions, see Hyde. 



NOTES. 123 



Page 55. 

The breezes on their morning icings 
Bore health and fragrance. 

The writer of an oldhis'.ory of the Turkish empire, quoted by Sir 
William Jones, says, " The air of Egypt, sometimes in summer, is 
like any sweet perfume, and almost suffocates the spirits, caused by 
the wind that brings the odours of the Arabian spices." 



Page 60. 

The hope of heaven. 

" Some of the pagan Arabs believed neither a creation past, nor 
resurrection to come, attributing the origin of things to nature, and 
their dissolution to age. Others believed both ; among whom were 
those who, when they died, had their camel tied by their sepulchre, 
and so left without meat or drink to perish, and accompany them to 
the other world, lest they should be obliged, at the resurrection, to 
go on foot, which was reckoned very scandalous." — Sale. 



Page 62. 

The light jereed. 

" Throwing the lance (jereed) was a favourite pastime among the 
young Arabians ; and so expert were they in this practice (which 



J 24 NOTES. 

prepared them for the mightier conflicts, both of the chase and war) 
that they could bear off a ring on the points of their javelins." — 
Richardson. 



Page 68. 

The castle, fyc. 

" Les Arabes ont pour defence des chateaux batis sur des 
rochers escarpes," — Niebuhr. 



Page 70. 

The Prophet-king, fyc. 

Zoroaster. " Le roi se laissa transporter a la colere, com- 
mandant qu'on allumat un grand feu, et qu'on jettat cet enfant 
(Zerdusht) dedans pour y etre consume : mais, par la puissance 
de Dieu, le feu qu'on avoit prepare pour bruler 1'enfant, se con- 
vertit en un lit de roses oil il reposafort doucement" — Tavernier. 



Page 83. 

Cayster's sivans. 

" Or milk-white swans in Asia's watery plains, 
That o'er the winding of Cayster's springs, 
Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings." 

Homer, II. b. ii. Pope's Traits, 



NOTES. 125 



Page 84. 

My inmost soul 
Till it itself is fire ! 

The Parsees believe the human soul to be constituted of fire. 
Grose. 



Page 100. 

The opening shock of fight to that wild roar 
That like an earthquake shakes the solid shore 
Of Orellana, fyc. 

" The most sublime phenomenon of this kind (the Mascaret) 
which presents itself, is that of the giant of rivers, the Orellana, 
called the river of the Amazons. Twice a day it pours out its 
imprisoned waves into the bosom of the ocean. A liquid mountain 
is thus raised of the height of 180 feet ; it frequently meets the 
flowing tide of the sea, and the shock of these two bodies of water 
is so dreadful, that it makes all the neighbouring islands tremble ; 
the fishermen and navigators fly from it with the utmost terror. 
The next day, or the second day after every new or full moon, the 
time when the tides are highest, the river also seems to redouble 
its power and energy; its waters and those of the ocean rush 
against each other like the onset of two armies. The banks are 
inundated with their foaming waves ; the rocks, drawn along like 
light vessels, dash against each other, almost upon the surface of 



126 NOTES. 

the water which bears them on. Loud roarings echo from island 
to island. The Indians call this phenomenon Pororoca." — Malte- 
Brun, System of Geography. 



Page 103. 

Despairing he had thrown 
Himself among the enemy, alone, 
To meet a glorious death. 

" The Prophet, on his white mule, was encompassed by the ene- 
mies ; he attempted to rush against their spears in search of a 
glorious death : ten of his faithful companions interposed their 
weapons and their breasts ; three of these fell dead at his feet." — 
Gibbon. 



MISCELLANEOUS 
PIECES. 



POEMS 



[The following passages of the unfinished " Tragedy of iEgeus " 
have been deemed too diffuse and light for that species of 
drama, and have therefore been detached for separate publica- 
tion: for many pieces of this kind may be capable of yielding 
pleasure by themselves, which the severe simplicity of tragedy 
would reject. Men have been led by a new species of pedantry 
to regard the drama of the ancient Greeks with a degree of 
scorn, and to afford no quarter to modern compositions upon 
mythological subjects. It is very questionable whether there be 
not as much ignorance as affectation in this ; for, to the matter- 
of-fact assertion, that the mythology is no longer believed in, — I 
answer, that neither was it ever believed by those who wrote, 
or by the greater part of those who read, about it in antiquity. 
Euripides, Sophocles, &c. were no idol or demon worshippers ; 
and, at the present day, we yield as much belief to a mythologi- 
cal tale as to any other fiction whatever.] 



PASSAGES 



FROM 



THE TRAGEDY OF ^GEUS 



[Scene on ship-board, within sight of Naxos.] 



Theseus. 
My friend, it is an oracle. 

Pandion. 
Oracle, Theseus 1 — you do only dream — 
Without departing from the general laws 
By which they regulate this universe, 
The Gods can neither send nor sanction them. 
Deem nought to be oracular that comes 
Through sense's mere familiar avenues, 
Which each day to the spirit minister 
Common ideas, common notices, 



TRAGEDY OF iEGEUS. 131 

Of trivial, mean, and base, and earthly things. 

Did the Gods come, they'd come in majesty, 

Cleaving the deep abysses of the world 

With far-felt earthquakes; and their creatures would 

Receive new senses, novel springs of thought, 

Additional dignity, fresh supplies of worth, 

To greet their coming. Trouble not for dreams, 

Oracular deemed in vain, thy quiet soul. 

Theseus. 
Would I could think as thou! but something dark 
Spreads like an awful circle round my soul. 
I seem in-netted. Not a thought that springs 
From my mind's fount, that seeks the plains below 
Or free or self-directed — demons come, 
And shape its course, and guide its winding wave 
Through caves or frightful solitudes ! 'neath storms 
Raving o'er nature, to some dark abyss 
Which yawns like hell ! and Dionysius 
Stoops from the burning sky and points below, 
Muttering of fixed inexorable fate, 
And wilful mortals, — and, in milder tone, 
The name of Ariadne. 

Pandion. 

Thoughts like these 
k2 



132 PASSAGES FROM THE 

Arise from deeds and situations strange ; 
Athens once reached they'll fade before your joy. 
As fades the glow-worm when the eager dawn 
Peeps dimly o'er the battlements of heaven, 
Ere the bright hours have harnessed her car. 

Theseus. 
Revengeful Minos-— 

Pandion. 

Pshaw! his ocean-line, 
Mingled perforce with iEgeus' nobler seed, 
There where his sword before had made a desert, 
Will shoot up to a forest. Should he come, 
And from the tyrant's sanguinary eye 
No less I augur, let him mount the walls 
O'er battlements of his own flesh and blood ; 
Let his sword eat into his soul, and lave 
Its vengeful point in that same crimson stream 
That warmed, ere now, his heart. — But, as to fate, 
And hell, and Bacchus, prince, I tell thee freely 
I do despise them all, and so should'st thou. 

Theseus. 
Despise the Gods! my Pandion how is this? 



TRAGEDY OF iEGEUS. 1 33 

I thought thee virtuous, heaven-fearing, wise — 
But this bold blasphemy — 

Pan dion. 

Nay, think so still, 
And thou wilt think most truly. But, my friend, 
I knew an ancient voyager who once 
Had wandered by the banks of reedy Nile,* 
And hundred palaced Thebes, — and, onward still, 
Babylon, Ganges, and the Yellow stream 
Which laves the world's extreme, had visited. 
And he had gathered in his lengthened track 
Gray stores of wisdom. 'Twas his sentiment, 
That all this infinite universe contains 
Arose from two eternal principles, — 
Evil and good, — the latter to adore 
With meek humility, as one that stands 
Of sacrifices, ceremonies, rites, 
Heedless, — but on the good and virtuous man 
Smiles most propitiously. The evil one, 
Struggling perpetually to mount the throne 
Of sentient nature, causes those dark spots 



* This name, afterwards imposed on the river iEgyptus, was 
unknown in the days of Theseus ; as were also the Ganges and 
Yellow river: but the anachronism may be pardoned. 



134 PASSAGES FROM THE 

Which blot the lucid surface of her sun. 
All else that men in their imaginings 
Have worshipped as divine, nature abhors. 
This to thee, prince. 

Theseus. 

Why then this evil one, 
Of which thou speakest, must be he who haunts 
My nightly pillow, — but it cannot be. 
The Gods the ancients worshipped must be Gods ; 
For in all lands their altars smoke, their shrines 
Glitter in every sun-beam which pervades 
This softly-yielding air. The wise, the good, 
Since the bright birth-day of fleet-winged Time, 
Have propped their hallowed fanes. 

Pandion. 

Ingenuous prince ! 
The young are ever ready to believe 
In outward seeming; could'st thou read the heart 
Of these same sages that so rapt appear 
At Jupiter, or Mars, or Dian's fane, 
Thou 'dst see the serpent Doubt deep-coiled within, 
Instead of Piety. Few, few believe 
Their country's rude but palatable faith ; 
But all, by tacit covenant, abstain 



TRAGEDY OF yEGEUS. 135 

From outward, loud, and explicit disdain. 
The people, they suppose, have need of faith, 
And so they prop the altars and the priests. 

Theseus. 
These things then, of that doting voyager, 
Thou, my dear friend, hast heard, — his creed it was, 
We will allow it him. But, oh ! the Gods, 
The Gods of Greece and Athens shall be mine ! — 
But see, my Ariadne. 

Ariadne. 

Theseus, 
What beauteous isle is that which, from the waves 
Which stretch their heaving silver bosom round, 
Rears its green head? The trim and mossy turf, 
Embossed with many a flower, comes sloping down 
To meet the circling ocean. On the right, 
Lo! there are lovely trees, which, as we sail 
Nearer and nearer land, do seem to grow 
From dwarfs to giants. 'Tis some sacred grove! 
For, see, the very children, as they skip 
Like fawns along its margin, if perchance 
By inadvertent frolic they too near 
Approach, seem awed, and fly away with dread. 



136 PASSAGES FROM THE 

Theseus. 
"lis Naxos, love ; and, in its peaceful bowers, 
The night that hastening comes, we mean to pass. 
Yon grove, — the murmuring rivulets that glide 
Hushed when they meet its shade, — the neighbouring 

sea, — 
The cooing of innumerable doves 
Nestling amid the boughs, — and the deep song 
Of the sweet nightingale, when these are mute, 
Charming the ear of night, — all make this shore 
The fit sojourn of love. Ho! mariners, 
Draw in the sails, slacken the busy oars, 
That we may make yon elevated point 
Slowly and solemnly. 

Pan dion. 

My gallant prince, 
I'll render them assistance, fare you well. 

[Exit, 

SCENE II. 

Theseus, Ariadne. 

Ariadne. 

My gentle Lord, 



TRAGEDY OF ^GEUS. 137 

Your eye, which love was wont to light, is dim, 
And, when you look upon me, half recoiled, 
As if it feared in my enraptured gaze 
T' encounter something dreadful. Do you fear 
The King of polished Athens would reject 
Minos's daughter? Would his lawful rage 
Extend, think you, to her whom fortune gave 
To save of one so dear the sacred life ? 
If so, my Theseus, I could e'en resign 
The hope of envied sovereignty with thee, 
So we might here upon this sea-girt isle 
But live and love ! 

Theseus. 
So the good Gods permit, 
Thou lovely maid ! wherever Theseus lives 
There shall his love of Ariadne live ! 
Those clouds, those passing shadows oft which dim 
The lustre of thy lover's eyes, touch not 
The temper of his heart. I love, I love ! 
My Ariadne, yes. — But, oh! the Gods — 
I would that I could tell thee what the Gods 
Do seem to menace ; — let the thought depart. 
The galley grates against the sandy shore, 
The air is perfumed by the breathing flowers. 
Futurity be hid! — We land, we land. 



138 PASSAGES FROM THE 

Ariadne. 
Nay, tell me what is threatened by the Gods. 
They would not have us part? my soul would else, 
Of their immortal natures, justice, wishes, 
Gifts, f dispensations, rites, and sacrifices, 
Think most contemptuously. 

Theseus. 

Why thus it is, 
That with the variations of our fate 
The Gods themselves do seem to fluctuate. 
Their dispensations all are dark, their rites 
Mysterious, unaccountable, their gifts 
Destructive of our peace. They envy us, 
And never send a blessing but there comes 
Inevitably linked a secret curse. 
Thus life is linked with death, — sickness with health- 
With joy the fated necessary blank 
Of being that follows. Love is linked with care, 
Inquietude, desire, and dread of wrong. 
But as to what they now do meditate, 
If good, or otherwise, I cannot tell. 
They haunt, pursue, disturb, and threaten me, 
But reveal nothing clearly. 



TRAGEDY OF JEGElv 139 

Ariadne. 
Love, I submit ; so thou wilt love me still ! 






SCENE III. 

[J. grove near the temple of Bacchus — The moon- 
light dimly falling through the thick foliage — 
Theseus and Ariadne asleep on a bed of 
leaves and flowers— Theseus suddenly starts up.] 

Theseus. 
Immortal Gods ! this hated vision still, 
And clad in ten-fold horror ! — Be it so ! 
I tear me from her arms, — but, from my heart, 
Xot heaven itself can rend her beauteous imasre. 
There it shall flourish gTeen, while yet the tide, 
The purple tide of being, ebbs and flows, 
Ill-fated maid! thou sleepest, and thy love 
Xow warmly eddies round thy youthful heart 
To be with morn frozen for ever ! Gods, 
Ye rule the world like tyrants. Gentle love 
Your partial hatred never fails to rouse. 
O let me take one last, one parting kiss. 
While yet she sleeps ! How fragile is her form ! 



140 PASSAGES, ETC. 

Not she of Heaven, with mystic arc and dart, 
More pale — no, nor more beautiful. 

[He kisses her. 
She sleeps 
As sound as if the grave had laid its hand 
On all life's functions. Sweetest maid, adieu ! 
May the best part of heaven o'ercanopy 
Thy lovely head, and shelter thee from harm. 
By over-ruling- Fate, the hand that should 
And would protect thee, from thy side is driven. 
Thou'lt think me treacherous, base, deceitful, dark, 
And mutable as hell; wilt loath my name, 
And future ages, should our tale survive, 
Will quote me as a monument of guilt ! 
Yet oh ! the hell that steeps my senses now 
Is worse than all. Methinks, that I could brave 
The thought of future infamy, the pang 
Of hateful and keen -racking recollection ; 
But oh ! to see thee here, and there the path 
Which when I tread will steal thee from my eyes, 
Is such a concentration, such an essence 
Of keen, absorbing, intellectual pain, 
That many an age of Sisyphus's hell, 
Seem crowded in one moment : — fare thee well, 
Brightest of all earth's daughters, fare thee well ! 

[Exit. 



14! 



DIRGE, 

Sung by Orpheus and Chorus of Thracian Virgins 
over the Tomb o/Linus. 



To these a youth awakes the warbling strings, 
Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings." 

Pope's Trans, of the Iliad. 



Wail, wail, ye virgin throng ! 

The Sire of song* 
On earth's dark breast for ever silent lies : 

No more his cheerful pipe 

Its numbers rich and ripe 
Shall pour at evening to the listening skies. 



* Linus was the inventor of Poetry, and the first who intro- 
duced the Phoenician Letters into Greece. Some say he was a 
native of Euboea. 



142 DIRGE. 

No more shall nymph or fawn 

O'er dewy lawn, 
Listening, on tip-toe through the moonlight come ; 

Nor shall the shepherd haste 

His evening short repast, 
Leaving for thy sweet strain the joys of home. 

No more shall sylvan maid 

Her ringlets braid, 
Like morning's golden clouds to meet thine eye ; 

Or with enamoured cheek 

Her growing passion speak, 
Or downcast modest look, or chastened sigh. 

Nor shall the summer eve 
Fantastic weave 
Her pall of vapour, and slow-fading light, 

To tempt thy steps abroad, 

Alone, enrapt, o'erawed, 
Watching unfold the starry robe of night. 

The slow, far-dying roar 
Of ocean hoar, 
Tumbling his billows round some distant isle, 

Is henceforth dumb to thee, 

Dear shade ! tho' wont to be 
Parent of sweet response, or radiant smile. 



DIRGE. 143 

And even the gods will want 

Thy mystic chant, 
Wont still at morn or dusky eve to swell 

Along the answering shore, 

Or o'er the ocean floor, 
Or through the forest wild or lonely dell. 

How can the lofty soul 

The dull control, 
The mystic leaden sleep of Pluto brook I 

Cannot it wear away 

Its clogging chains of clay, 
And yet enjoy earth's ever-cheerful look ? 

Alas, alas ! we mourn 

That no return, 
When o'er the Stygian bank the spirit goes, 

The gods severe allow ; 

But all our bitter woe, 
Like streams in deserts lost, unheeded flows. 

Yet to this sylvan grave, 

And crystal wave, 
That murmurs music thro' the mournful grass, 

These laurels ever green 

Shall tempt, as oft as seen, 
The feet of heedful travellers as they pass. 



144 DIRGE. 

And oh ! if wakening fame 
A right may claim 
To cheer a shade on Pluto's gloomy shore, 

Thee, thee, the choral lay 

Of bards and virgins gay 
Shall chant, O Linus ! now and evermore. 

For thou has oped a spring 

Which, murmuring, 
Deepening, and widening, shall, to latest days, 

Where'er the passions be, 

Float wild, and sweet, and free, 
And, in its cadenced flow, re-echo with thy praise. 

Farewell, loved bard! farewell: 

I may not tell 
How thou dost govern still thy Orpheus' breast ; 

But every solemn year 

The Gods permit me here, 
My songs shall soothe thee in thy golden rest. 



145 



NIGHT. 

Ye distant, beautiful, and glowing stars, 

That thus have twinkled 'neath the wings of night 

So many countless years ! beautiful still, 

But silent as the grave ! — How many hearts, 

Yearning, like mine, to know your holy birth, 

Have questioned you in vain ! Ye shine, and shine, 

But answer not a word. Why is it thus ? 

Why are your vast circumferences lessened 

By intervening cold and lifeless space ? 

In the wide ocean's waves, that roll between, 

The music of your motions too is lost ; 

Or if some meditative holy ear 

Catch the sweet cadence flowing from above, 

It is so soft, so faint, so exquisite, 

It rather vibrates through the listening soul 

Than trembles on the ear ! — 'Tis heavenly sweet 

To see you gem the spacious firmament, 

Like fiery brilliants set in ebony ! 

To gaze upon you, hung like beacons out 

Upon the margin of another world, 

L 



146 NIGHT. 

Inviting us on high, is ecstasy ! 

But yet ye are so distant, and your round 

And bright immenseness, so diminutived, 

That a light sparrow's wing, nay, a frail leaf, 

While trembling to the passing breath of night, 

If interposed, can shut your brightness out, 

Eclipse you for a moment from our eyes : 

A leaf eclipsed a world ! But, oh! 'tis thus 

Even in our world itself : the veriest trash, 

The hidden mischief of the secret earth, 

Ancestry, title, blood, if hurled between 

The gem of genius forming in the mine 

And the sun's fostering ray, will intercept 

The glorious, bright, and necessary fire, 

And let the jewel perish in the womb 

Of grand prolific nature. But there are 

Spirits of fire, that will shine out at last, 

And blaze, and kindle others. These delight 

In the lone musing hour to roam the earth ; 

To listen to the music of the trees ; 

Or if perchance the nightingale be near, 

Pouring her sweet and solitary song, 

They love to hear her lay. With such as these 

'Tis sweet to hold communion. Though the world, 

And fates of life, forbid a closer tie, 

Yet we can gaze upon the self-same stars 



NIGHT. 147 

As Byron in his Grecian skiff is wont 

To view at midnight, or which livelier Moore 

Translates into his soft and glowing song. 

Nay, more — those very stars in elder time, 

Sparkling with purer light in the clear sky 

Of Greece, perhaps, were those that Homer saw, 

And thought so beautiful, that even the gods 

Might dwell in them with pride. O holy Night ! 

If thou canst wake so many luminous dreams ; 

Call up such recollections ; bring the past, 

The present, and the future into one 

Immortal feeling ; from thy influence 

Let me draw inspiration ! let me mount 

Thy mystic atmosphere ; and let the shades 

Of heroes, gods, and poets in the clouds 

Meet my impassioned gaze ! My soul is dark, 

And wild, and wayward ; and the silver moon 

Shooting her rays upon the misty deep, 

Or sleeping on the frowning battlement 

Of some time-stricken, solitary tower 

That rises in the desert, seems more bright, 

And grand, and glorious, than the glaring sun 

Shining upon the open haunts of men. 



148 



TO THE GRASSHOPPER. 

FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON. 

Blest, O Grasshopper! art thou, 
Seated on the lofty bough, 
Sipping glittering drops of dew, 
Singing songs for ever new. 
Like a king thou look'st around 
O'er the finely-cultured ground: 
Whate'er the laughing seasons bear, 
As they pursue the circling year; 
The rose, the olive, and the vine — 
All, all thou ever seest is thine. 
The rough rude tiller of the earth 
Joys to hear thy harmless mirth : 
Nay, thy sweet prophetic song 
Foretelling summer-days, among 
The green leaves floating, mortals all 
Cheering, soft, delightful call. 
The very muses, and their king 
Phoebus, love to hear thee sing — 



TO THE GRASSHOPPER. 149 

Nay, the latter taught, they say, 
Thy merry song to wind away. 
Old age on thee, and on thy strain 
Exerts its withering power in vain, 
Thou earth-born master of the lay, 
All unlike a child of clay ! 
UnsufFering, fleshless, free, thy fate 
Is like the happy gods' estate. 



150 



TO THE MORNING STAR. 

While all, as yet, is hushed and still, 

I see thee rising o'er the hill, 

Along the cool and quiet sky 

To meet the fierce Orion's eye. 

Let others greet the Star of Eve 

Twinkling above the ocean wave, 

And shedding light on lovers' feet, 

Delighting 'neath his ray to meet ; 

To me, thou sober watcher, thou 

Dost shed a holier lustre now, 

While all alone well pleased I tread 

The deep grey, dew-besprinkled mead. 

The little nations of the wood 

Sleep fast, despite this tumbling flood, 

Rolling his restless waters by. 

No lark as yet hath pierced the sky ! 

Bright star! what lovely peace around, 

Through heaven, and earth, and sea is found 

Beneath thy beam ; nor shining day, 

Nor night beginning, ever sway 



TO THE MORNING STAR. 151 

Our souls so placidly, or give 

So full, what makes it bliss to live. 

How due the pious Grecian* stole 

To feel thy influence on his soul, 

From early couch, and wound his way 

Along the cool Munychian bay! 

Thus, too, be mine the freshening breeze 

Soft- wafted from the curling seas ; 

Be mine the sound of dipping oar, 

And boat's wake rippling from the shore, 

And slender billow breaking in 

Some distant cave with murmuring din, 

And venturous sea-mew screaming far, 

Beneath the cold bright Morning Star. 

* Socrates. See Plato's Dialogues. 



152 



TO THE EVENING STAR. 

FROM THE GREEK OF BION.* 

Hesper, golden light of gentle love! 
Dear sacred glory of the azure night! 
Thy brilliance shines all other stars above 
Far as it yields to Cynthia's stronger light. 

Be blest, bright star! and to my shepherd swain, 
As o'er the glimm'ring moor alone I go, 
'Stead of the moon, now sunk beneath the main, 
Yield me thy cheerful light; believe me, too, 

1 seek no evil, I would injure none, 
I wish to love, and be beloved, alone. 

* Heinsius attributes the trifle to Moschus. 



153 



THE IVY CHAPLET. 



Hederam, inter doctarum praemia frontium recensitam, poetisque 
praesertim pro corona datam legimus : propter inebriandi scilicet, 
sive enthusiasmum quondam excitandi potestatem, quam, pe- 
rinde ac laurus, habuisse reperta est. 

ANTiaUITATES MlDDLETONIANffi, p. 163—164. 



Give, O give an ivy wreath, 
With berries clustering thick beneath 
The leaves inspiring fury sweet, 
Dear Maenad e with the snowy feet ! 
Come near, thy madness let me share, 
Bright virgin with the streaming hair ; 
Quick, my burning temples press, 
Nor heed thy loosely-flowing dress, 
Not that this rage I would restrain, 
Or feel the Muse's breath in vain ; 
This wild retreat, this rocky shore, 
The sea's soft-curling crystal floor, 
Th' inspiring God throughout thy frame. 
All fan the strong Pierian flame ! 



154 THE IVY CHAPLET. 

But still the ivy chaplet weave, 

I would its maddening- power receive 

To force the stream of song- to flow 

By all that earth and heaven bestow. 

There ! — Now, O virgin, add the lyre, 

I feel the wreath my soul inspire ; 

Then sit thee on that rock, and hear, 

While sweet the waves are murmuring near, 

My free and dithyrambic strain — 

Then hie thee to thy rites again. 



155 



SONNET TO MINERVA. 

Stern Maid of Heaven, protectress of the wise, 

Why didst thou e'er forsake Athena's towers ? 

Why from her mart of thought, her olive bowers, 

Didst thou avert thy lore-inspiring eyes ? 

Is it that fickleness usurps the skies ; 

Or that all states have their unhappy hours ; 

Or that the Gods withdraw their sacred dowers, 

When man from virtue's narrow pathway flies? 

Be as it may, return thee to the spot ; 

Think of no ancient wrongs, O Goddess, now. 

Be all her failings — be thy wrath forgot; 

And what thou canst for fallen Athena show. 

Extend thy aegis o'er thy ruined fane, 

And give its ancient glory back again. 



156 



CASTLE. 



With a warm heart o'erthronged with many a fear, 
In childhood I beheld this lonely pile 
Stirring poetic thoughts — from year to year 
It caught the evening moon's pale silver smile, 
And seemed enthroned in mystery ; the while 
The ascetic owl poured forth his sullen shriek, 
And from its crannied base or chappelled aisle 
Forth darted the dim bat, with vision weak, 
Skimming along the wave which at its foot did break, 

And close upon the skirt of eve there came 
The fisher's skiff, with soal or turbot fraught, 
Cleaving the wave crested with phosphor flame, 
Which, leaning o'er the prow, his urchin caught 
In unburnt hand — the sire, with riper thought, 
Eying the pole-star or the glittering wain, 
Or, in his rude mythology, the grot 
Beneath the turret, peopling with the train 
Of fairy elves who haunt the margin of the main. 



L CASTLE. 157 

Just then the visions of far Araby 
Had spread their fibres round my fancy's spring, 
And struck deep root; and forth I stole to be 
Free to indulge my fond imagining : 
The oar's light dip — the rustling vulture's wing 
Brushing the ivied tower — the far-off sail 
Glancing athwart the moonlight,— failed to bring 
Other than magic hopes, without the pale 
Of whatsoe'er of true in nature doth prevail. 

Genii, magicians, filled the moaning wind 
That came at fits full thro' the ruined wall, 
Which seemed an isthmus reared up by the mind, 
To part th' unreal from the natural : 
And if a lapse of sound, perchance let fall 
In the dusk woods behind, at eve were heard, 
Strait 'twas the spirit of the breeze's call 
Mustering Ins brethren, and his very word 
Noted, distinct became, as song of well-known bird. 1 * 

But time subdues romance: — by slow degrees, 
Like the bright tincture of an evening cloud 
Through which the light is lapsing, on the breeze 
Floated the fairies off — the genii bowed 

* A superstition peculiar to that part of the country. 



!58 L CASTLE. 

Their heads, and, shuffling on their midnight shroud, 
Escaped into the darkness. — All alone, 
At early manhood's dawn, I stood, not proud 
That these my boyhood's visitants were gone, 
But choosing Truth's stern lap to lay my head upon. 



159 



ON THE 

BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. 

I. 

Is it the only proof of love to die — 
To pass off like a shadow when the form 
Which gave the semblance life, no more is nigh, 
Companion for the funeral-pile or worm? 
Is there no keeping fond affection warm 
By living solely for the hallo w'd dead? 
Cannot the heart beat still amid the storm 
And coil of life, for him whose narrow bed 
Nor warm'd nor soften'd is by laying head by head? 

II. 

'Twas the fierce breathing of the savage state, 
Whose dim ideas pierce not through the grave, 
Which made the gentle bride pursue her mate 
Beyond the windings of the Stygian wave : 
She knew nor life nor death, and so was brave 
By simple instinct of a fiery soul; 
And hasten'd dull oblivion's aid to crave, 



160 BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. 

Not having lived to feel the wise control 
Of mother's cares, perchance, that calm the passions' 
roll. 

III. _ 

But no vain precedent from hence should spring", 
No law, to force the more reflecting mind. 
All cannot feel th' insufferable sting 
Of lonely after-being left behind, — 
The sole link snapp'd that to the world did bind, — 
Nor can this blight seize many hearts on earth: 
The greater part deliver to the wind 
Their cares and sorrows ; and from rosy mirth 
Invoke bland smiles to cheer the bright domestic 
hearth. 

IV. 

And nought in truth but ignorance and crime 
Can deem self-sacrifice the test of love ; 
Or stain the ever-rolling wheels of time, 
Whose vast circumference conveys above 
The blots on earth contracted, as they move 
On the broad highway of eternity. 
With blood of murder'd innocence, that strove 
The meditated deed perchance to flee, 
To breathe heaven's blessed air, full happy but to be. 



BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. 16l 

V. 

But when fast bound to earth by thousand ties 
The friend, the daughter, and the mother, stands; 
When the frail pledges of their sympathies 
Implore her yet to live with lifted hands ; 
When none but Superstition's cursed bands 
Stand round and urge her to the flaming pile, 
Forging of angry heaven the dire commands 
Her fluctuating spirit to beguile — 
Though none but basest ends incite their hearts the 
while ; 

VI. 

Who can repress his scorn of priestly trade, 
The scourge for many an age of Asian land, 
The mark which those who traffic or invade 
Her gems and perfumes suffer aye to stand; 
Though one mild effort of the conquering hand 
Might free the earth from this detested blot, 
And lead in bless'd Religion to withstand 
By her meek statutes what has dimm'd the lot 
Of man, and wrought such deeds as may not be forgot. 

VII. 

Who can behold the unwilling victim led 

In sad and mocking pomp to meet her doom, 






162 BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. 

That few short years before her bridal bed 
First saw — ah! little dreaming of the tomb! — 
And not feel rage and bitter anger come 
Troubling his spirit, spreading to his kind, 
And closing life's short vista with a gloom 
That hangs its heavy pinions on the mind, 
Making it loath its state, unhappy, unresign'd? 

VIII. 

But Knowledge, slowly rising, like the sun 
In early spring upon the Lapland plain, 
Gives forth faint light, but, lengthening days begun, 
Its growing rays do gather strength amain ; 
And clouds spring up and interpose in vain — 
The living principle asserts the sky — 
Driven back, or scatter'd wide in driving rain, 
To furthest corners of the heavens they fly, 
Shunning for aye the glare of day's all-lightening eye. 



THE END, 






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